No Angel
by Xazz
Summary: Harvey sees some scars right over Mike's back. That's where Mike's wings used to be.
1. Unusual You

_Maybe you're not even human 'cause,_

_Only an angel could be so unusual_

_Sweet surprise, I could get used to_

It happened on a rainy day.

A hurricane had come up from the south. Most people below North Carolina would call it a rain storm as it was barely a category two, but the whole of New York was in an uproar about it. Harvey thought it was stupid, work still had to be done. Jessica was of his mind and unless the storm strengthened everyone had to come in to work.

The storm spun itself out before it even hit land and was nothing more than a depression by the time it went over Manhattan. That said it unleashed biblical amounts of rain, turning gutters into mini rivers till the sewers seemed full to the point of bursting. Harvey was watching the rain from behind his desk when he looked up to the sound of wet squishy wet leather. Mike stood in the door, soaked, looking like a half drowned dog.

"Why didn't you catch a cab?" was the first thing Harvey asked.

"It hadn't hit before I left this morning," Mike made a face at him. That surprised Harvey, the storm had hit early in the morning. He wondered where Mike had gone before coming in to work. "By the time I hailed a cab it wasn't even worth it," and he wiped a bit of water off his brow.

Harvey frowned and glanced out the window, it was still coming down in buckets. "Where's your spare suit?" he asked looking back a Mike.

"At the cleaners," Mike frowned unhappily. "I can tough it out. What do you need me to do?" he carried on as though his dripping suit wasn't a problem.

His chair creaked slightly as Harvey stood up and crooked his finger at Mike, signaling him to come closer as he walked over to a tall, narrow, door nestled between his record collection. Mike shuffled over, trying not to get wet everywhere as Harvey opened the door to what was ostensibly a closet. "Oh," he heard Mike say. "You're actually going to let me wear one of your suits?" he almost seemed in awe that he was even allowed to touch them, let alone _wear _one.

Harvey just shrugged, "It's an old one, don't get too excited," he said.

"Right," and Mike instantly schooled his features. Or at least, he tried to. His lips kept twitching.

"Here," Harvey handed him the suit and went over to the glass wall that separated his office from the rest of the firm and pressed a button for the automatic blinds. From her station Donna cocked a brow at him, questioningly but Harvey ignored her.

When Harvey turned back around he saw Mike had shrugged off his sodden jacket and shoes and was undoing his belt. Harvey looked away, though he desperately wanted to catch a peek, even just a little one. But no, he wouldn't. He had more respect than to act like a peeping Tom. She he kept his back to Mike and listened to the sound of shuffling wet clothing.

It occurred to Harvey then that Mike was putting on the pants first. Usually it was the other way around. He heard the belt clicking into place and Harvey hazard a glance now that Mike's lower half was carefully concealed by Harvey's spare pants.

Mike was half turned to him, unbuttoning his shirt with a strange sort of determination. Off went his shirt and then, more slowly, he started to peel off his undershirt. Harvey was just glad to see he _was_ wearing an undershirt. "Harvey," Mike's voice cut through his staring, because yes he had been _staring_. How could he not? Mike was creamy pale with surprisingly broad shoulders and arms that looked like he worked out.

"Hmm?" Harvey managed.

Mike licked his lips before saying, "Could you turn around?"

"Huh? Sure," and Harvey did so. A feeling nagged at him though. He'd expected Mike to ask Harvey to turn around when he'd changed pants. He hadn't though, Harvey had just done so on his own, but Mike hadn't even seemed worried about it. Now Mike was just changing his shirt. He was hiding something, that was for sure. As he heard Mike gathering up the clean shirt Harvey felt himself turning, just slightly, to see what it was Mike would hide from him. Maybe it was a tattoo, or a birthmark or—

Harvey stared as Mike was about to pull on his shirt, facing a bit away from Harvey. Starting just below the top of his shoulders and descending to almost the middle of his back were twin scars about the width of two fingers and had obviously been sewn shut as if he'd undergone some medical procedure. Only they were big and despite the sewing seemed almost touched with violence as smaller scars lightning out of the two larger ones.

"What the hell happened?" he blurted out before he could stop himself, a trait he thought he'd stamped out. But apparently not.

Mike whirled, eyes huge, and quickly yanked the shirt on and now Harvey caught another scar he hadn't seen before. On his pelvic done there was a thin diagonal scar that he'd missed because Mike was already pretty pale and the scar was pale too. Mike stared at Harvey for a second, shirt open, before his face turned a deep red and he quickly buttoned his shirt up, grabbed the jacket and tie and practically ran out of the room, leaving behind his shoes.

Harvey stuck his head out of his office to see Mike marching down the hall, head down. "What did you do?" he looked over at Donna who had that 'you better not say something that will displease me'.

"Nothing," Harvey said truthfully. Donna gave him another look, the 'did you touch your puppy inappropriately?' look. "I didn't do anything," Harvey scowled at her.

"Then why did he leave like a man on a mission… and is he not wearing shoes-" now she sent him a 'fix it' look he knew very well when it came to Mike when he'd done something he probably shouldn't have. Pushed too hard, been a bit too cold, asked a bit too much. Harvey just rolled his eyes at her. He hadn't done anything wrong, all he'd done was look at Mike, he shouldn't have to _fix_ anything. He opened the blinds and walked back to his desk, dutifully ignoring the little half glares Donna kept sending him.

—

Once Harvey had seen the huge scars on Mike's back he found he couldn't stop thinking about them. Mainly where the hell they'd come from. He didn't know and knew Mike would never tell him, not from his reaction the first time he'd seen them.

At first he thought they were surgical scars from an operation, but he couldn't think of any procedure that would require such a large incision, and two of them at that. They weren't even over any particular part of the body so it wasn't like it was back surgery, as they ran parallel to his spine.

Next he contemplated scars from the car accident his parents had been it. They said it was a miracle Mike had lived through it when it had killed both his parents. But that wasn't it either. The scars were _too perfect_ to be a random act. And again, they were huge, he would have bled out in the time it took the paramedics to get there.

Then there was the other strange scar on his pelvis. It was thin and long, longer than his hand at least and perfectly strait, like Mike had cut himself with a knife.

That led to the third, and most concerning theory. That the wounds were self inflicted. Who knew if Mike had other scars, places where he'd cut himself, Harvey hadn't seen. But if he could do that to his back he knew there had to be more. The idea made his skin crawl that Mike, _his_ Mike would even ever think of doing that to himself. It was improbably though. Mike was a happy young man, sure a little stressed, but not psychotic and he knew Mike wasn't on any drugs.

In short, he speculated but had no real answers, and very well couldn't just _ask_ Mike. When he'd seen Mike again he'd just acted like nothing had happened, which had put Mike at ease. He couldn't ask, because he'd acted like it wasn't a big deal. That didn't mean he didn't want to know though, or didn't think about why they were there, why Mike had needed to cut into himself like that, self inflicted or not (though he was betting on the not).

—

The event never happened again. Mike seemed extra careful to always have a spare suit in the office if he needed it, and they never spoke of it again. After a few months Harvey was convinced he'd honestly just imagined the scars and they'd been tattoos, or those scarifications that were becoming popular again. Either way he put it out of his mind since worrying over it got him nowhere.

Instead he focused on their cases, mainly, winning them, as well as making sure Mike didn't worry his head off about their secret being exposed. Between work and Mike's antics it was easy to forget, easy to pretend it never happened.

Harvey found he genuinely liked Mike's company, and after the scare with Trevor, knew they worked as a team both in and out of court. That made a small part of Harvey smug because, of course they would work well together. Harvey had trained Mike from the ground up how to be a big boy lawyer after his first few months of trying not to blow his own cover by being a bit inept. Because of that he kept finding himself finding reasons to spend time with Mike. Sure he had a bit of a thing for Mike, he was attractive. But that didn't mean too much for him.

Harvey liked pretty things, things that were hard to get and were worth the effort in getting, it was why he liked rare, fast, cars, records you couldn't buy at the local dime store and food served only by some of the best chefs in the city (not even expensive, but just the quality of the food). So yeah, he was interested in Mike. He was just slightly out of reach and had a brain that sometimes threatened to give him a hard on when it spit out information of such a eureka that even he was impressed. He was also Harvey's opposite. He cared so much, even if Harvey had tried to get him to stop, where Harvey pretended to not care about anything but winning. The attraction was like when two magnets of opposite poles came near and Harvey just couldn't shake his desire to know Mike _better_. Better as in spread out on his sheets without a scrap of clothing where Harvey could enjoy the sight of his pretty pale skin and discover if he had any more scars—

Damnit. He'd thought he'd gotten over Mike's scars.

—

It was a nice restaurant, low lit, with soft music played through hidden speakers, something orchestral with long, vague, violin, parts. Mike sat across from him, chattering banally, not that Mike was ever had anything exactly boring to say but he was really just talking to talk and Harvey didn't mind listening. He only shut up when their food arrived and Harvey was half amused, half horrified, at the rate he consumed his food. Mike was pretty thin, skinny even, but he always seemed to be eating, Harvey didn't know how he did it and he was the one who worked out. Harvey couldn't count the number of times he'd seen Mike eating at his cubicle, picking chips or crackers out of a bag one at a time like a bird. He certainly didn't eat like one though.

They'd been doing this for a while. Every week Harvey would make an excuse to drag Mike out to eat or just out in general. Donna had stopped giving him all knowing, smug, looks at least like she had the first few weeks. She, of course, knew exactly what he was doing. Mike seemed oblivious though, or at least Harvey thought so, and was obviously putting it up to Harvey just being nice, something he would normally tease Harvey about. But Harvey doesn't mind the teasing because, though he hates to admit it, he does care. He also cares about getting what he wants, and what he wants is Mike, as terribly selfish as that sounds.

Once Mike's finished his meal he starts talking again and Harvey makes appropriate comments between his own bites since Mike eats at a speed a human should be incapable of. He asks after dessert, and Harvey gently reprimands him, reminding him he's still eating and Mike just flushes in embarrassment. Harvey likes when Mike blushes, there's something terribly innocent about it. For a second he has a flashback to when he told Jessica, to distract, that Mike was a virgin. He wonders than if Mike actually is. He's never even thought of it before and it does uncomfortably warm things to his insides. As if he wasn't already Mike will obviously be the ruin of him.

Dessert came and went and Harvey tried to get the idea that Mike is a virgin out of his head. But it's a persistent little idea and refused to leave quietly. He told himself that, rationally, Mike has surely been with others, man, woman, who cared, he couldn't be a virgin. Not a guy like him at that age. He tried to recall, as he ate his dessert, Mike ever mentioning boyfriends, or girlfriends. While he didn't have a memory like Mike it was still pretty good and he honestly couldn't recall him ever saying anything of them of the sort.

"Thanks for the meal Harvey," Mike said as they left the restaurant. "I feel like I don't have the pallet to appreciate it though," he added sheepishly as Ray pulled up to the curb and hopped out of the car.

Harvey rolled his eyes a little, "Why do you think I take you to these types of places Mike? To learn to appreciate the good things in life."

"But I do," Mike insisted, "I mean, I appreciate you," and he smiled widely.

Harvey blinked at him a moment and offered an almost-smile to him, "Get in, I'll have Ray drive you home," and he put his hand on Mike's back to guide him in. His brows arched up when he felt Mike flinch for just a second before moving forward quickly and ducking into the car. Curious, Harvey followed and Ray closed the door after him. "Everything all right Mike?" he asked as Mike buckled himself in and seemed to subconsciously scratch his back and Harvey wondered if the touch had reminded Mike of the scars. That sent a sick amount of pleasure down Harvey's spine.

He had thought he wasn't obsessive, but really, Harvey had a bit of an addictive personality. Once he found something to wonder about or do he didn't stop. He kept his interest carefully in check though. Fast and exotic cars, records, autographed sports paraphernalia, law, attractive men and women, good food, things he could be addicted to comfortably without it spiraling out of control. He'd never figured he'd have a thing for scars though. He'd once slept with a woman who used to cut herself, and while he hadn't been turned off, they hadn't excited him either, they'd just been part of the landscape. Mike's scars were different. For starters they were huge, and for another they were mysterious. Harvey liked to weasel secrets out and figure things out, but he couldn't figure these out and the thought of the unknown was exciting because it meant he got to do what he did best, figure it out.

"Huh? Yeah, fine," Mike grinned at him as Ray entered New York traffic. "Just an itch," his grin turned a bit strained. Bad connection with them probably. He scratched again, as if now that it had been brought up he couldn't stop. Harvey just watched a moment before reaching over slowly and fitting his hand behind Mike's back to get the place he looked desperately trying to reach. Like before Mike flinched, though it was barely noticeable like before, Harvey only noticed because he was looking for it now. After that momentary hesitation though Mike seemed to relax a bit. "Uh, thanks," Mike said awkwardly when Harvey pulled away, flushed again. Harvey just shrugged like it was no big deal.

—

When Ray pulled up to the front of Mike's apartment Harvey tried very hard not to be judgmental. It was difficult though since it wasn't exactly the nicest building, it wasn't even in Manhattan. He frowned slightly looking out the window at it. "Thanks for the ride Harvey, Ray," Mike said and Harvey looked away from the building where Mike was getting out of the car.

Something caught at the corner of Harvey's eye. "Have a nice night Mr. Ross," Ray was saying as the door opened. Instinct made him grab Mike as he was about to swing the door open and get out and pull him back into the car. As he did an SUV zoomed past without any worry about what was going on.

"The hell!" Mike yelped, realizing he'd been a second away from a smear on the road and against the car if Harvey hadn't grabbed him. Not to mention the damn SUV would have torn the door clear off. He looked around wildly, half splayed across the back seat, head barely brushing Harvey's chest.

"You okay Mike?" Ray called from the front, sounding the only one actually panicked in the entire car.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Mike said patting himself before looking up at Harvey, "Thanks," he said.

"Clearly without me you would have died by now," Harvey said giving him a little shove upright and got out sidewalk side and motioned for Mike to follow. "Since you can't navigate a street," he as good as ordered and Mike scrambled out of the car. "Need me to make sure you don't fall up the stairs and hurt yourself?" he asked, only half joking.

Mike opened his mouth, closed it, then said, "I've obviously been in greater danger than just walking up to my apartment. But maybe it's better to be safe than sorry," and Harvey had to hand it to the kid, that was probably the most interesting way he'd ever been invited up to someone's apartment, even one as ramshackle as Mike's.

Harvey leaned into the car's open door as Ray was getting himself comfortable again after closing Mike's door. Ray could obviously take care of himself and didn't need Harvey to make sure he wasn't run over. "Ray, take it around the block, I'm making sure our princess doesn't kill himself on the stairs," he joked and sent Mike a teasing smirk, Mike just made a face at him. Ray chuckled and nodded and Harvey closed the door.

"Princess? Really? What are you six?" Mike asked and bounded up the stairs of his stoop like he was lighter than air. It was a strange sight since usually Mike seemed so heavy footed, so solidly grounded. Yet he seemed to walk on air here. He unlocked his front door and held it open for Harvey.

"What floor are you on again?" Harvey asked looking up the flight of stairs.

"Top floor," Mike said cheerfully. Harvey did his best not to blanch. Mike's building was six stories tall.

"You drag your bike up and down these every morning?" Harvey asked, starting up after mike who always seemed half a flight ahead of him. Harvey wasn't out of shape by any means but even he hated stairs. Mike didn't even seem to notice them though, he just seemed to float right above them, getting more chipper the higher they went.

"Yep," he said waiting at the third floor for him. "Tired?"

"Please," Harvey rolled his eyes, Mike just laughed and continued up to the forth floor. Harvey furrowed his brow trying to figure it out. Mike was usually a pretty cheerful guy, but as they reached the fifth floor he seemed to practically _glow_ and unlike Harvey wasn't out of breath in the slightest.

They reached the sixth floor and Mike fished out a little silver key and unlocked the knob and deadbolt in his door. "You want some water or something before you go back?" Mike asked before opening his door.

"Yeah, sure," Harvey could honestly have used it. He wasn't used to stairs, it was an entirely different workout he wasn't used to.

Mike opened his door, "Make yourself at home, I'll get you something," he said as he held open the door. Harvey walked in expecting a mess, as Mike's cubicle was rather messy and while amazing his proofing was somewhat chaotic. He was surprised that that wasn't the case in Mike's apartment.

He'd expected something kinda old and ugly and claustrophobic with brick walls and looked cold and run down. Mike's apartment was just a one room, clean with cream colored walls and a large bed pushed up against a pair of large windows with white drapes. There were hooks on the wall for his bike and a door to the bathroom and off to the side was a kitchenette where Mike was rummaging in the fridge for something. The floor was hardwood and for some reason Harvey got the impression of being inside a cloud. It probably had to do with the bed, which was heaped with clean, white, bedding and pillows like a nest and Harvey got the feeling that in the daylight the place was bright and airy. Maybe more than his own apartment, and he had outer walls made of glass.

"Here you go," Mike's voice startled him slightly and he looked over at Mike who was holding a glass of water for him.

"Thanks," Harvey said and took it. "Not too bad rookie," and he motioned to the apartment.

Mike laughed and walked over to his bed and sat on it. Harvey noticed off to the side was a small couch and a TV that was collecting dust. "I like it," he agreed, toeing off his shoes as Harvey took a sip of his water. "You can sit if you like, it's kinda weird just having you standing in my apartment," Mike said with a slight face. Harvey consented to leaning against the kitchen counter, but nothing more.

"I honestly expected something worse from the building," Harvey took another sip.

"Heh, yeah, everyone says that. I fixed it up though. I like it cause it's the tallest building in the neighborhood and I get the sun right through my window in the morning," and then he was hopping out of bed again, somehow having lost his socks. Harvey's brows rose a little when he saw strange marks around his ankles, as the pants were a bit too short on him.

It was fascinating to watch Mike move around his apartment. At work he always seemed slightly jumpy; happy, but jumpy, always careful like someone was going to find out their secret. He sometimes seemed lost too, like he didn't know quite what to do with himself and that everything was a new shiny something to poke at an examine, but always with the distanced knowledge that he couldn't appear too naive about their work or he'd get found out. Here it wasn't anything like that and he moved around confidently. Like Harvey had noted in the stairs he was light on his feet, floating over to one of the doors and opening it to a closet.

Harvey's brows went up a little as Mike removed his jacket and put it on a hook before undoing his tie. "Do you own any real ties Mike?" Harvey asked, noting a collection of them hanging from the door.

"Hey, these are fine," Mike sent him a look.

"Barely," Harvey snorted and took another drink, casting his eyes around the room before they zeroed back in on Mike who was bustling about. He sort of seemed to have forgotten Harvey was there as he straitened this, and rearranged that and muttered to himself as he took a cutting of flowers (white ones with long speckled petals, Harvey hadn't noticed them before) out of a vase and threw them into the trash.

"Hey Harvey," Mike suddenly interrupted his quiet watching, Harvey just gave an acknowledging head nod. "What's your favorite color?"

Harvey was so floored by the question, which was out of left field, that it took him a few seconds to come up with a response. "Blue," he said even though it wasn't; it was orange. But with Mike staring at him curiously all he could think of was the color of Mike's eyes, those big dull blue things they were. Mike didn't have bright cheerful blue eyes like you'd expect someone like him to have, they were muted and pale and like the color of the sky just before rain. Christ he needed to stop, he was starting to sound like a hormonal teenager over their crush.

"Hmmm," Mike said thoughtfully and tilted his head to the side for a moment, looking curious at the same time before nodding. "Did you want anything else before you left?" he asked and Harvey glanced down, his glass was empty, when had that happened?

Harvey thought about that a moment, "No, nothing," he said even though he did have some things to say. Some things he wanted to know. For starters what was up with that fucking random question. Still he had a feeling he'd find out, so he said nothing.

"Okay," Mike smiled widely at him. "I'll see you tomorrow Harvey," and he walked Harvey the few steps to the door, opening it for him and waving after him as Harvey walked down the stairs from the top floor.

The walk down seemed to take no time at all and he only had to wait a moment before Ray came around the corner and parked in front of the building. He didn't get out as the traffic was a bit too hectic for it and Harvey just slid into the back seat without complaint and settled back as Ray turned on the blinker to merge into traffic.

Harvey sat back and tried to make his brain just _stop_. He needed to not think about things sometimes. But alas, it was not so and he kept replaying what had happened in Mike's apartment over and over again. He'd never _ever_ seen Mike like that in the months (almost a year now) he'd known Mike like that. Maybe when he'd been high it'd been close, that sort of strange uplifting sense where he was invincible. He knew since Mike had started working for the firm he'd moved, so this place was a new place. He wondered what Mike had been like in the other one. Was it the same? Different? It seemed the higher he got off the ground the lighter he became, till he almost seemed to glow and-

Harvey rubbed the bridge of his nose. He really needed to stop with the romantics. It could never work out. Harvey was Mike's boss for starters. For another he didn't even know if Mike was interested in him, and even if he was… the entire thing was just bad and could be effortlessly filed as sexual harassment if Mike ever decided it wasn't fun anymore. Not only that but Mike seemed gun shy. He had no problem dropping trou and changing in front of Harvey (it had only been his pants and Harvey had been trying very hard to not look at how good Mike's ass had looked in those red briefs of his (which was an entirely different thought process he wasn't going to have right now)), but he'd freaked when he'd started to take off his shirt. Which was ass backwards if Harvey knew. Harvey didn't blame him for that of course, those were some nasty scars on his back. But still, gun shy, and if he didn't want people to see them casually what chance did he have to see them intimately?

None.

He really to just stop thinking about it and move on, worry about something else. Or he would but there was nothing pressing right now. None of his clients had made fools of themselves. There was nothing for him to _fix_. So for with lack of real things to thing about he was fixated on Mike.

Harvey groaned under his breath and closed his eyes. He could really use a drink.


	2. Skin

___All they see is scars_

_They don't see the angel_

_Living in your heart_

Sometimes it was easy to pretend a bed was a cloud. A bed was a cloud and the sunlight coming in through the window was just coming out from the sun between the leaves of the Great Tree. Sometimes he could fool himself and everything was okay and he could get up in the morning and not feel the world turn under his feet, or cells in his body die, or the world _die_ around him.

Today was not one of those days.

The City was gray today, low clouds obscuring the tallest buildings and making the entire world damp and cold and gray. It made him feels so… so alone. Next to him his alarm clock screamed but he didn't reach out to put it to sleep and let the noise pass over him like the rolling fog over the City. It didn't rain in the Glass City, or fog, or snow, or get cold, or become warm. Fuck. He needed to get up, he had to go to work.

But he couldn't make himself move. It was days like this that were it was always hard to even be alive. Days like this where drugs had been helpful. He hadn't had one of these days in almost a year, since he'd started working at Pearson and Hardman. Started working for Harvey.

Mike sat up with a start.

Harvey. He couldn't let Harvey down. No no nonono that wouldn't do. He scrambled out of bed, scattering his cloud of pillows and sheets everywhere and slapped the clock silent and turned it off. That noise was so annoying. The cool spring air pricked at his skin as he made himself move to the closet and pulled it open. His eyes tracked across his clothes and pulled out a suit and a pale blue shirt. Harvey liked blue.

Mike left the apartment almost without breakfast. Damnit he almost always forgot breakfast, food really. It was just so _easy_ to forget. Donna didn't know how spot on she was when she told him teasingly to stop missing meals. The fact was that Mike did meals, sometimes often, sometimes he just forgot what it felt like to need to eat. It was just so simple to forget something he used to never need. So he ate and grabbed his bike and hit the pavement with his messenger bag at his side.

He had an umbrella in there, but he knew he wouldn't need it. He saw other people walking around with umbrellas and raincoats, but it wouldn't rain today. Mike always knew when it would rain. Except that one time. That one time he'd been distracted and had missed it and had been drenched. This time though he _knew_, no rain.

He probably would have preferred it. It would have gone with his mood.

—

It was always sunshine in Heaven and the Garden of Eden and the Great Tree. The sun never set, just sank low to the horizon, almost touching it, and then arcing back up into the sky. Mike could sit and watch the sun rise and fall for days without missing a beat, following it back and forth across the sky like a wayward child. To Mike the sun was amazing, bright and hot and full of life and wonder.

The others thought he was strange.

Mike was not a good angel. For one he was too curious. Angels weren't supposed to be curious, they were supposed to follow orders, and not doubt their leadership. But Mike was curious, and he was smart, and clever and he did _doubt_. He never spoke of that doubt, never even gave a hint to it. But still. He doubted. He gave them no voice though and did as he was told, and watched the sun, and always (always) looked for the moon. But there was no moon in Heaven, only the sun. Few other angels even knew what the moon was. But Mike knew. He knew because he liked to read. Read and take notes and step away from the others in their various training and just sit and think.

Those were the parts Mike could remember. Those parts and… some parts he'd rather forget. He couldn't even remember his name. Not his real name, the one God gave to him upon the moment of his creation, the name that had filled him with such power that the air had trembled when other's spoke of it at first. He could remember that. He could remember the way it had filled him, made him whole and one and complete. But he couldn't remember what it was. All he remembered was the letter it had started with, or rather, the sound it had started with; M.

So now he was Mike. And every cell in his body burned for the name to sound true when all he heard whenever it came out of his mouth was a lie. A lie and a condemnation, that he wasn't what he said he was. He was more than a conman pretending to be a lawyer. He was a conman pretending to be a man when his entire body screamed the objection that left him so deeply wounded that sometimes only the pale haze of drugs could make the way everything inside him cramped go away, the only way he could forget, for just a moment, that he wasn't just a man. His scars were deep and all he could do was try to move on. Even when the sun set, and he could feel the lines on his back like newly bloodied stumps and the way the earth turned under his feet and around him his body continued to die.

—

Mike loved to ride his bike. To feel the wind rush through his hair and over his skin and for short moments he felt like he was flying. Flying… thinking about it always left him feeling so painfully grounded that he sometimes almost burst into tears. He'd never fly again, because he remembered that. He remembered the feeling of wind under his wings. He'd had amazing wings. Huge things that he sometimes put over his head when even his sun watching became too much and it hurt his eyes, They'd been pale, almost white, more like the color of cream or eggshells with the tips of his long primaries darkening to taupe, the color of wet sand.

He pushed down hard on the pedals and sped through the streets as fast as he dared, and he dared quite a bit. The cool air penetrated the layers of clothing he wore, biting at his skin and the fog left a light trace of wet on the top. He didn't care. He had a spare jacket at the office. Now he relished the feeling of the wind in his face and the cool snap of the air against his skin. It only got cold on Earth. Heaven did not fluctuate in temperature, it was always just right, not too hot or too cold to offend any angel. Mike always wanted to stand under the sun to see if maybe, just maybe, he would feel just a bit warmer. But the sun was a star that gave more light than warmth and he never felt anything other than the same pleasant warmth against his face, the same unoffensive coolness on his skin.

Here though it was hot and cold and brutal and so _alive _that sometimes Mike ached from how alive it was and obvious it was that only the things that were truly alive could die.

Mike took the next turn hard, scaring the crap out of some pedestrians and a motorist at a red light. His bike leaned low but soon he'd straitened out again and was pedaling down one of the crowded and clogged streets of Manhattan where the cars barely moved and during rush hour, like now, everything was almost at a stand still, nothing moving.

But there were bikes.

Whizzing in and out of traffic, stopping for lights, but only long enough before pedals were turned and they were speeding down streets leading the cars and motorcycles behind as they zipped right between cars. They were like bees in a field of flowers, not staying in one place long, and all with a place to go that spurred them forward and onward. Mike joined those other bikes, hopping onto a sidewalk for a moment to get around a parked truck.

He slowed for a light he knew was long, his brakes gliding to a halt next to a black convertible with the top up. He made a mental note to himself that when he got to the office to buy some Skittles from the vending machine. Mike had an insatiable sweet tooth. Donna liked to tease him about it. He couldn't help it, he loved sweets, and the office was one of the few places he ate, because it kept his mind focused and current in the now. Another bike slid to a stop on the other side of him, a bike messenger in sleek body armor under a bulkier jacket.

The messenger adjusted some straps on his jacket and looked over at Mike, feeling the blonde's eyes on him. He grinned a bit and tipped his head to him in greeting. Mike offered back his own greeting. "Already burning the morning oil?" he asked across the convertible.

"Heh, you know it," the messenger said with the tone of the long suffering. "Oop, green," and he quickly put his hands on his handlebars and lifted his leg up onto his pedal and pushed hard. Mike looked forward as well and was off the block before the convertible had even realized the light was green.

He was half way across the intersection, chasing the bike messenger who'd started to fit himself through cars, when he heard honking. He looked left, towards the noise and his eyes widened as a car in the right turn-only lane suddenly jerked forward as something smashed into it from behind. That was all he remembered before front bumper of the car smashed into him, his leg, and his bike. He went flying and cracked his head against the pavement, he had a helmet, but the pain in his leg made him black out an instant after hearing a someone yelling in a panic and running towards him.

Well. Seems the rain wasn't required. The mood was perfect. Mike shouldn't have gotten out of bed.

—

To say it never rained in Heaven was really a lie. It had rained.

Once.

And only once. No where in any stories or tales or memories of the angels had it ever rained in Heaven. But one day it had.

The details were blocked, there was too much pain in the details. But he'd done something, _Mike_ had done something to give the others reason to think he doubted, reason to think that he wasn't just another soldier, another cog in the wheel. But there was just so much pain in remembered, too many bad things that crept in at the edges.

—

At some point Mike knew he was screaming. Bright, white hot light streamed into his eyes and he heard people all around, yelling and scrambling. He couldn't hear them, he was screaming, more shrill and high than any octave a human could obtain. It was a scream that could shatter glass and make ears bleed and it ripped his throat apart. The pain in his leg and hip was something he couldn't even comprehend. He'd never been this hurt.

No.

That was a lie.

That was such a lie.

With the pain came the memory, and he suddenly wasn't sure if he was crying, or if rain was splattered down upon him through the leaves of the Great Tree as the angels looked up above them in fear. Then he felt blissfully numb and as darkness fuzzed his usually quick mind, slowing it, slowing it, slowing… it…

—

The dirt was warm under his skin and someone, he wouldn't name them, so many names forgotten, so many things lost, had their foot on his back. He huffed and made dirt fly. They said his name, he knew because the air trembled when they spoke, words incomprehensible to human ears and made his head hurt to listen. He was _human_ now. But he hadn't been then, and he could understood. But by the sun did it hurt so badly to remember, for even in memory the words of angels could make waters boil and cause eardrums to rupture.

The ground was hard under his cheek and he fought for breath as they listed his crimes. He was a traitor, a heretic, a sinner, a demon, they rolled on and on, each crime like a punch to the gut that almost left Mike physically winded. Mike flailed against the foot on his back, tried to buck, but he was held fast by power from his oppressor. Around the two was a ring of angels, more than a dozen deep, all staring at him like he was a bug, or a germ under a microscope. He yelled for help, seeking his friends in the crowd, but not one would meet his eyes. No one would come for him. He was alone. For the first time in his life, his long, long, peaceful life, one without pain or hurt, Mike cried. Tears started to roll down his cheeks and he pressed his face into the dirt.

He heard angels murmuring to themselves as the one above him declared his sentence. It was deemed he was the worst sinner, he was a Fallen. He'd never been part of that garrison. Of any garrison. But he heard the whispers, he was one of 'them'. It made his stomach roil and revolt.

"For your crimes against heaven," Mike tipped his head to try and see who was speaking, but even in a memory most of the angels were incomprehensible to humans. Like the ones around him he saw a being made of pure, raw, unbridled energy, that crackled with flashes of lightning and glowed both from the inside and outside like he was made of glass. "You're to be stripped of all heavenly bonds. For your crimes…" he took a long pause as if to savor the moment which he soaked in like a wine. Mike felt sick to his stomach. Then he spoke and Mike felt all the blood rush from his face and more than a few angels gasped, "your wings are to be clipped."

"NO!" Mike yelled and tried to push up off the ground. "NO!" he screamed again when he couldn't move, his own voice a pain to his memory ears. The angels in the ring stood in silent terror at the verdict and what the punishment was. Not since Lucifer's Rebellion had an angel had their wings clipped. Few remembered the names of those who had been caught by Michael's garrison before they Fell from Heaven, but they all remembered the punishment, and they all remembered the screams, the begging and pleading.

The angel above him reached down and gripped his first wing tightly by the joint. Mike flapped his wings wildly, bashing them against the angel but it was like swatting at a wall. The angel pulled out this sword, pure energy, and extension of their grace, more part of them than a weapon. Mike's eyes widened upon seeing it and then he felt it.

He screamed, a sound that seemed to rip apart the very air and made the other angels flinch. Some made to leave, to get away as the angel above him sawed into his wings. As they did the angel yelled that any who left would be seen in league with the traitor. Not an angel moved after that. Tears ran freely down Mike's face and he screamed until he was hoarse. He didn't try to plead, he knew it wouldn't do any good.

He let out a low, tortured, groan as the pressure suddenly released, only to sob when suddenly the angel _tossed_ his wing onto the ground before him. His perfect creamy wing, the same color as his hair, and it lay on the ground before him, feet away. He could feel himself bleeding, and watched as blood oozed out from where his wing had been hacked off, staining the feathers bloody. Then the angel grabbed his other wing.

Mike had been sure he couldn't possibly have screamed anymore after his first wing had been cut from him even as the angel grabbed the next one.

He was wrong.

—

Mike slowly blinked awake, looking around groggily. He was in a hospital room, one by himself, and there was a crumpled man in a suit in a chair shoved into the corner. It was dark outside and inside, only street lights bleeding through the blinds. Mike had good night vision do and once he could focus he turned to the man in the chair.

He started at what he saw. It was Harvey. His hair was a bit disheveled and his suit was a bit wrinkled. On the side table next to him were some folders; work. He blinked, unable to believe Harvey was here. He hadn't expected Harvey to be here. Not in a million years. A small smile etched itself across Mike's face.

"Harvey," he croaked, he sounded like shit. His throat hurt, everything hurt, and the machine beeping next to him was so fucking annoying. He thought maybe he should just let it go, let Harvey sleep, but he had questions. "Harvey," he called louder.

He saw Harvey wake and his eyes shuttered open. He was awake and next to Mike's bed in less than three seconds once he realized Mike was awake. "You're awake," he said, stating the obvious, he'd never seen Harvey look so relieved in his life.

"I hadn't noticed," he offered Harvey a little grin. "Turn on the light?" he asked. Harvey nodded once and left to turn on the light. Mike blinked away the sudden assault to his eyes, "What're you doing here?" he asked and swallowed to wet his throat, which was still dry and itchy.

"I… was worried," he said like he hated admitting it.

"Ha," Mike, even with a fucked up leg and hooked up to a machine, couldn't let this chance pass him by, "you so care about me," he grinned.

Harvey just rolled his eyes at him, but he didn't contradict Mike either. So that was a win for Mike. "So going to tell me why you jumped in front of a car rookie?" he asked.

"So did not. Light was green, their fuck up."

"Mmm," Harvey agreed.

"Uh… just asking but, who's paying for this?" cause he didn't have the insurance for a private room, let alone whatever sort of wonderful pain meds he was on.

"I am," Harvey said.

"Harvey you don't-

Harvey pressed a hand over his mouth to shut him up, "I am, and that's the end of it, and no you don't owe me. Understood?" Mike nodded, a warm fuzzy feeling in his gut knowing that Harvey cared, and cared enough to pay for his medical bills. Mike didn't know what that felt like, to not have to worry about bills, in a long time, especially not since he'd started living with that nice old lady the day he'd—

"Is is raining out?" Mike asked looking towards the bind covered window.

"Hmm?" Harvey stepped away from the bed and looked outside. "Yeah," he reported back.

"Oh," Mike deflated. He hated rain. "How long have I been here?"

"Since this morning after the accident. You scared the hell out of the doctors in the ER when you woke up," Mike blinked at him in horror. He thought he'd imagined himself screaming. Guess it hadn't been his imagination.

"Oh," Mike said again, frowning.

"Hey, you okay?" Harvey placed a hand on his shoulder. Mike looked up at him, Harvey's brown eyes were warm, caring.

"Well I did get hit by a car today," Mike said lamely.

"Heh, yeah," Harvey agreed. "Doc said that once you wake up you'd be able to leave, go back to your life," he shrugged.

"I think I might have to work from home," Mike said with a slight wince. Harvey looked questioningly at him. "I mean I can't exactly ride my bike to work," he motioned to his leg, which was stiff in plaster and he knew he was going to be bed ridden for a few weeks. He made a face, "Hell," it still amazed him every time the word passed his lips, when before such language was punishable, "I'll barely be able to walk up and down the stairs."

"Don't worry about work. Till you can walk you don't have to come into work."

"Says you?"

"Says _Jessica_," Harvey stressed. Mike's eyes widened a bit, he hadn't been expecting that for sure. "And your doctor said you should stay with someone till you're healed up enough to walk."

Mike scoured his amazing memory, then he blinked at Harvey blankly. He had no one. Trevor at one time, but then he'd moved to Montana. Jenny was out of the question, she'd never forgiven him for the thing with Rachel. He hadn't been able to help it. Those sorts of… feelings, were new, new and strange and wonderful and he didn't want to lock out anything he ever felt. Rachel was out too. Once he wasn't with Jenny she'd dropped interest. She wanted things she couldn't have and once she could actually have Mike he wasn't even on her radar. They were still friends but… it was tense after his blow out with Jenny. He didn't have any other close friends who would let him crash at their place for… what eight to ten weeks at least? "Okay," he said anyway, no need for Harvey to know he didn't have a place. Well; he had _his_ place. His personal cloud at the top of the building. Shit this was going to be tricky.

Harvey saw right through him. That or he'd been planning this since the beginning. He could never tell with Harvey, the man was tricky and always surprised Mike with just about everything he did. It made Mike's life exciting, fun, things he needed in his life to distract him from his own body. Before Harvey he'd smoked weed, now he didn't need to, he had Harvey, and that was better than any drug. The next words that came out of his mouth made him surprised, but in a good way. "You'll stay with me." Mike opened his mouth, "I'm not letting you go back to your apartment, for starters you'd never get up the stairs, for second you'd never get down them, and for third, if you're staying with me I don't have to worry that you'll get hit by another car."

Mike looked down at his leg under the blankets, "I doubt I'll get hit by very many more cars like this Harvey," he said.

"This isn't open for discussion," Harvey said firmly.

"You going to wear a candy striper uniform for me?" he grinned at Harvey.

Harvey rolled his eyes, "Get some sleep kid, we'll get you out of here in the morning," Harvey said.

"Okay Harvey," Mike said and, for a second he thought he was imagining it, Harvey reached up and ran his hand across his hair.

"Don't you ever scare us like that again," he said firmly.

"I won't," he promised.

"Good," Harvey ruffled his hair and then Mike held his breath as Harvey slid his hand down and cupped his cheek for a moment before pulling away. Mike swallowed and Harvey went and turned the light off before going back to the room chair. Mike tracked Harvey with his eyes and only once Harvey was sitting did he settle back down fully into his bed. The feeling of Harvey's hand was warm against his cheek as he fell asleep.

—

There was silence in the circle of angels. Mike could barely move, could barely even breath. Pain laced through his entire back like lightning and he sobbed into the hard, hot, dry, dirt. His screams had ended a long time ago and he was a broken, bloody mess under the angel who had mutilated his wings. Above him he heard the angel talking, making sure all the other angels heard. But Mike didn't hear. The pain filled his head to the point of bursting and became so all encompassing that it let nothing in his head but the white-hot lacing feeling that muddled his sense and made him unable to move or think, or feel, or hear anything.

A low noise broke through his pain. A dark, deep, low and loud rumble that seemed to start at the edge of the sky before rolling over the assembled angels. They all jerked and shrank back in fright. The sound gave Mike something to focus on, something to grasp. He knew the noise. Only as a theory though, never as real sound.

Thunder.

Several angels cried out in alarm and stared at the sky, pointing. Dark clouds rolled across the face of the sun, blotting out the sun and the bright blue sky. Lightning cracked and thunder rolled and the first few drops began to fall. They stared up at it in awe and even Mike managed to lift his head up to the sky, mouth open in shock that it was raining in Heaven. Water trickled into his mouth, past lips and down his throat, soothing his aching throat, and amazingly enough, soothing his bloody, mutilated back.

The rain came down in a down pour and the angels scattered, winging away back up into the great Tree to get away from the rain, acting like it burned them. Mike just kept his eyes tipped upwards, catching rain in his mouth even as the dirt around him turned into mud.

He heard footsteps come up next to him. "Hello," and they said his name, the air hummed and lightning lanced across the sky like a sword piercing the heavens. A cool, damp, hand touched his face, smoothing a thumb over his cheeks. "Don't worry, it's going to be okay," they said gently. Mike didn't know who they were. "We'll take care of you," and then he heard others come up around him. He looked around and saw angels, but none he'd ever seen before. They weren't like the other angels, they could be seen through the lens of human memory.

"Who are you?" the words tumbled off his lips wearily.

"Don't worry," thunder boomed like a great drum at the sound of his name, the world flickering with light for a brief instant before dimming again. "We'll take care of you," they said again and felt himself being picked up out of the mud. "You aren't one of us, but you aren't one of them," an two colored eyes swam into his vision briefly. One blue, one green. They were beautiful.

"It hurts," Mike breathed as another angel held held him behind the knees and high up on his back, just above where his wings had been cut. He could feel where what was left of the stumps moved useless against the air.

"I know," the strange angel who wasn't an angel stroked his face again, "I know," he frowned sadly. "Rest now, everything will be okay," and Mike felt his eyes close. Above him it continued to rain and water dripped down his face and body. "We'll fix you up, I promise," they said his name again. Mike still couldn't remember it, and that was almost even worse than the loss of his wings.


	3. Sister

_So he said shut your mouth girl the angels are listening_

_She crossed herself now the moments are missing_

_You can hurt me do whatever you like_

Mike had since been moved into Harvey's condo.

But lets not get ahead of ourselves and fully appreciate that sentence.

Mike had since been _moved_ into _Harvey's_ condo.

Mike was in Harvey's place, a magical land only talked about behind cupped hands and seen through the eyes of beer goggles. Mike had been fucking _giddy_ when Harvey had brought him in, though that might have also been the pain meds and dear God they gave you the best meds when you were in the hospital. Mike had never had such a clear mind than when he was hopped up on whatever drugs they'd given him. For once there wasn't the soft hum of noise in his ear or the dull ache as his brain tried to take in all the information it was used to and processing it at speeds that a human mind should have been incapable of. Needless to say, it was pretty damn close to paradise, or at least Mike assumed that was why you'd use such a term like that.

Harvey had Mike under what amounted to house arrest while he was in his full leg cast and Mike was staying in the guest bedroom Harvey said was usually only used by his parents or brother when they came to visit. Mike didn't mind since Harvey left in the morning, after forcing food down Mike's throat (since he really forgot to eat when he was so blissed out on what was probably morphine) and that meant Mike either stayed in Harvey's spare bed or on the couch and watch TV or when he was bored go over work Harvey made him do. Just because he was down didn't mean he was out and so long as Mike could think properly he could do work. Harvey had been hesitant at first with giving Mike work for the first few days, since he was so blissed out, but after becoming so bored Mike had gone over every scrap of paper in Harvey's home office and caught all the errors Harvey had given him work.

In truth Mike had never felt so clear. Well, never so clear since he Fell. Thinking the word made his back prickle, and muscles that were no longer there still seemed to move like a phantom limb. Really Mike didn't slow when he got high. He pretended to but it wasn't so. When the fog of drugs fell over his eyes he could almost raise himself to that untouchable heavenly perfection where everything was clear and the world was so alive that Mike wasn't sure how things didn't burst apart everywhere. It was in effect like the return of his Grace but without the hounding stimulation of the heavenly choir that followed him like a lost dog.

Mike could always still hear them. His brothers and sisters in the host. They were always far away though, like speaking at a great distance so they were less than a whisper, but if Mike tried he could hear them, so it was never truly silent and that made his entire body ache for what he'd lost. The drugs numbed that part of him, left his head clear and he couldn't hear them and the first time it had ever happened he'd cried. Then he hadn't known why. He'd thought it was from the fact that they were well and truly gone and he could never get back what he'd had. But later he'd mulled it over. It hadn't been from grief or misery, it had been from relief. A relief that he could no longer hear them because it was misery to hear them.

Mike groaned when Harvey knocked on his door, time to wake up. He was amazed he'd slept at all. As nice as Harvey's guest bed was (and for the record it was fucking amazing) he had trouble sleeping even though he was on sleep aids as well as pain meds. He missed his bed. Full of pillows and white and fluffy like a cloud. It was the one thing he'd spent a lot of money on after he paid for gran's medical bills when he started working for Harvey, and it was nicer than this guest bed. He'd never tell Harvey that of course. He grunted and just rolled over.

There was silence on the other side of the door for a while before Harvey was back. "Mike," he called, "Get your ass up. You broke your leg, you aren't dying and we got places to go and things to do."

Of course. (Though really he was grateful for the work since without it he went out of his mind with boredom.)

Mike sat up with a sigh and levered himself out of the bed. Since he didn't leave the condo Mike just went around, day and night in pajama bottoms. They were easy to fit around his cast for starters, and were wicked comfortable. He pulled on a nice shirt, one without anything on it and grabbed his crutches. These had taken a while to get used to, but he strait refused to use a wheelchair (despite Harvey trying to convince him otherwise. And Harvey claimed he didn't care. Buuuull shit). He hobbled out of the guest room to the kitchen.

Harvey's apartment was modern in places and homey in others. His kitchen was a homey part with cabinets made of oak and black metal appliances instead of cold stainless steel. There were marble counter tops and wicked expensive tiles on the floor though Harvey covered them in what very well could have been persian rugs but who was Mike to say how Harvey spent his 'thousand dollars an hour' money? Harvey was there and Mike sat at the island bar, leaning his crutches against the countertop.

"So, what sort of fun do I get to do today?" Mike asked as Harvey set his morning pain meds and antibiotics in front of him. Harvey didn't let him medicate himself. Probably a smart idea, but annoying since Mike just wanted to keep everything at bay. If Mike had it his way he'd be taking one of the strong ones every two hours instead of four because after two the fog started to fade and while the pain was still gone Mike's head started to become cluttered with the choir or his own mind trying to keep up with the assault of stimuli to his senses.

"You'll have to put on your big boy clothes today," Harvey said and poured them both cups of coffee.

"What? Have you not seen me? I am always in my grown up clothes," Mike teased back. He did love sarcasm and humor. Angels had neither.

Harvey rolled his eyes, "I told one of our clients you'd gone and hurt yourself in a car accident, they wanted to see for themselves that I wasn't mistreating you. I don't know where they'd get that idea," he almost leered at Mike as he added several large spoonfuls of sugar to his coffee, plus this amazing coffee creamer Harvey had. It was carmel mochiatto something or another and made the bitter snap of coffee taste like a piece of butterscotch. Mike had fancied just drinking it strait once or twice when Harvey wasn't around before controlling himself (he'd been especially high when he'd had those particular ideas but so sue him, he liked sweets).

"No idea," Mike said back chipperly in a good mood as he took his meds and knocked them back with a sip of coffee. Still too bitter. He added more sugar.

Harvey looked at him in horror, "You want some coffee with your sugar in the morning Mike?" he asked.

Mike put the spoon down sheepishly and stirred his coffee silently, almost sulking. "I like sweets," he almost complained.

"Yes, I noticed when I went through your desk at work for your stuff. How the hell are you so skinny and yet have three bags of candy in your desk?"

Mike wasn't about to tell him that his metabolism was accelerated and so efficient that he could live off nothing but flavored water, beets, and ramen (which he'd done for an entire three months one time), but that might be pushing it. Truthfully Mike might not have been an a-word anymore but his body still hadn't figured that out. It still urned to be up high in the air (and Harvey's apartment had almost made him start crying when he'd first looked out the window but that was a thought for another time), it still loved the feeling of wind over his skin, his eyes still strained to see the energy and radiation that humans couldn't, his ears still tried to hear the heavenly choir and sometimes he could feel the phantom pull of his wings as if they were trying to keep his balance and… no. Don't go there. He wanted his meds to kick in now. But the fact was that his body wasn't like a human's, not yet at least (it was getting there it seemed) and even his metabolism raced along and consumed and extracted at a rate no humans should have been able to. It was also why he ran so warm (it had apparently freaked the doctors out to find he ran at one hundred and one naturally)

"I bike to work Harvey, I need to keep my blood sugar up," he lied and sipped his coffee.

"You're going to get diabetes," Harvey said without any heat of actual criticism and Mike knew he was just being a jerk to be a jerk so he forgave him. Also his meds were kicking in and now Mike stopped giving a shit. The toaster dinged and Mike got a bagel for breakfast with butter. He wasn't a big eater and after a day and a half of Harvey trying to get Mike to eat real food (and failing mind you) he'd just settled for feeding Mike what he actually would eat (and finish), and a bagel was all he could handle in the morning.

Once he took care of breakfast Mike shuffled back to the guest room where he washed (if you could call a towel bath a wash, as he couldn't really reach his back) and then dressed in one of his suits. Doing so he fell down at least twice since his bulky cast made him uncoordinated, but eventually he did get dressed in his 'big boy' clothes and went back outside where Harvey was reading over an email on his phone. "So who loves me more than you that they wanted to see me?" Mike teased, leaning on his crutches with a big grin.

Harvey rolled his eyes, "Eleanor Visyak," Harvey said and stood up. "Now lets go, Ray is waiting," and he ushered Mike out of the condo to the elevators.

—

Doctor Visyak was one of Mike's favorites. She was from California but did a lot of business here in New York and was one of Harvey's many wealthy clients. She was a collector of old things, particularly from the days of the European Dark Ages. Mike thought she was awesome and she always had interesting stories to tell.

Currently she was here on call for the Metropolitan Art Museum about a sale they were in the process of finalizing and she'd been called in to verify that it was indeed as old and dusty as the seller was claiming it was. Mike always liked being around Eleanor, she was nice and always seemed to have something sweets on her like she knew he didn't eat enough and could always use something to eat. She was staying in one of the big fancy hotels in the City and when she opened the door she opened her arms and hugged Mike. He made an attempt to return the gesture but it was a bit difficult when he was standing on a leg and two that barely made a half, and had to keep hold of his crutches for fear of falling over.

She beckoned them both inside and had Mike sit down before going to the little kitchen in the place (the museum had set Eleanor up nice for her stay) and came back with juice for Mike and water for Harvey. He should have felt sore she treated him like a five year old, but for some reason he couldn't. Eleanor made him feel so… welcome, familiar too though he couldn't put his finger down as to why.

They chatted, she grilled him about the accident and when Mike told her he was staying with Harvey she just gave the older man this _look_ like he'd only ever seen Donna give Harvey. Mike was still a bit bad at reading human faces, he always over compensated and got it wrong, but Eleanor almost appeared… scolding. That was the only way Mike could describe it. Like Harvey better not be doing anything wrong and frankly Mike didn't know what Harvey could be doing. Then she'd asked him about his stay with Harvey, and she seemed pleased by his answers so at least that was something.

Then it seemed Eleanor actually had to talk to Harvey about something. Mike listened for a bit before realizing there wasn't anything he needed to know or remember and Harvey didn't stop him when he got to his feet and went to the balcony door, balancing on his crutches.

Outside Mike felt his entire body break into a delightful suit of goosebumps. He was up so high here and it felt amazing. He went to the edge of the balcony and looked down. Mike got a rush of adrenaline and for an insane moment he wanted to just… _jump_ and fly away. He knew though that that was a dumb idea, since he didn't have his wings.

He blinked and tilted his head as he heard something. The fog of his pain meds had started to wear off and while there was still no pain his head was becoming cluttered again. At the edges of his hearing too soft to hear unless he was looking for it, was the sound of the heavenly host. But that wasn't what he heard. The wind up here was also strong and made a feint whistling against his ear.

That wasn't what he was hearing either.

Mike twisted his lips and let out a low, long whistle. To a human it would look like nothing, sound like nothing. As said Mike might not have been an angel anymore but his body had yet to catch up. His 'low' note was still too high for regular humans to hear and in fact was more in dog rang. It made some windows around him vibrate for a moment before he passed the sound barrier and the low hum of the lowest chords of angelic voices made the air vibrate instead. It was the only pitch he could still reach and was just at the edge of angelic speech, because he knew what he was hearing, he was hearing an angel. He doubted they'd hear him though, angels didn't listen this low on the audio range, if they did they started to hear the sounds of earth and humans and it just wasn't a good idea.

He stopped the chord and was silent before he sighed and looked down. The ground below was blurry and it took a moment to understand why. Mike raised a surprised hand to his face and brushed away his tears. No. He didn't want to feel like this. He looked back down, after ridding his eyes of water, and thought again of just jumping again. It was a long way down and he knew that for the moments of free-fall he would feel like he was flying.

"Mike," Harvey's voice pulled him away from his thoughts of suicide and he turned. "Lets go, I'm dropping you back off at the condo before I head back to work."

"Right, coming," and Mike shoved his crutches up under his arms. "Could I a pain pill Harvey?" he asked as he neared him. "My leg's starting to hurt," he wondered when he'd have to resort to begging.

"When we get back I'll give you some, alright?" Harvey said, Mike nodded, he could handle that. He would have to. He followed Harvey back inside and hugged Eleanor goodbye. Before they left Mike heard the high strain of an angel's voice, mid range; it was searching.

Eleanor closed the door behind them.

—

Mike was in what looked like a park, or maybe a backyard. The sun was out, bright and gorgeous and the grass under his feet lush and thick and somehow cool. Nearby a bald, portly, middle aged man flew a kite. There were perfectly trimmed hedges and bushes along the sides all a dark, rich green, almost looking too perfect to be real. Mike blinked and looked around before going to sit on a bench.

He sat there for a long time, or he thought he did, it felt like a long time. He looked up when a shadow passed over him, but there were no clouds. There was no sun either, but that didn't strike Mike as particularly strange. He shrugged and looked back down, relaxing in the garden. The shadow passed over again and Mike looked up in time to see the edge of something massive at the very edge of his sight but no matter where he looked he couldn't behold it.

'_Who are you?' _someone asked in the angel tongue which was a scream through the air and Mike suddenly knew where he was. He was in a dream and this was… fuck this was someone's heaven. _'What are you?'_ they continued, confused and Mike got the impression of them circling him and he kept seeming to glimpse them out of the corner of his eye.

Mike felt himself starting to panic. There was an angel in his dream. A real angel and they didn't know him, didn't know who he was. Which was, of course, impossible, or should have. The panic tipped over into just plain misery and Mike stopped trying to see the angel. He couldn't see them, and they didn't know him. The questions repeated, over and over, building like a choral, the angelic thread of the angel's voice winding and holding onto one tone and many tones in a way a human's never could. It rose higher and higher, not in pitch or volume, which remained low and at a whisper, but in urgency, moving from curiosity to questioning to demanding. Faster and faster and

_'Where are you?_' they asked as if suddenly right in his ear.

—

Mike's eyes flashed open and he looked around wildly, not knowing where he was and where he lay felt hard and uncomfortable. He was disorientated and then, as though on a delay, he cried out in pain, his leg _hurt_. It shouldn't hurt, he was medicated. But it did and he needed to remember where he was.

For starters he was on the floor. Carpet. Beige. That's when it clicked and just as he realized where he was (it couldn't be more than five seconds since he woke to now) the door opened. Harvey's figure was outlined in the door by the light outside. Shit. Shit. What time was it?

"Mike," Harvey said and came into the guest room and knelt. "Mike are you okay?" and he felt Harvey lay a hand on his back. Any other time he would have squirmed away from such an intimate touch, but he didn't this time. He probably had everything to do with the fact that he was hyperventilating. "Mike," Harvey said in a firmer voice and suddenly Harvey's face was all he could see when Harvey made him turn his head and look right at him. "Deep breaths," he said, firm, but gentle and Mike took a deep shuttering breath. "That's it," Harvey said and Mike felt Harvey petting his hair, coaxing him to breath and calm down.

Eventually Mike's breath did even out. "Okay now?" Harvey asked.

"Yeah. Sorry," Mike said sheepishly.

"What happened?"

Mike blinked at him, "I don't know. I had a dream. Just a bad dream," he shook his head as if to clear it.

"C'mon," and Harvey helped Mike up. More like he picked Mike up and put him on the bed. Mike didn't realize that Harvey was as strong as he was until Mike found himself aloft and put on the bed which to Mike felt just as hard as the floor.

"My leg hurts," Mike said, since it did.

"Okay," Harvey's voice was low, and his breath brushed against Mike's face and for a second he was sure he'd start to just hyperventilate again. Mike ran a hand across his face as Harvey moved away and left the room. Shit. What the hell was that?

Harvey came back a few moments later and sat on the edge of the bed and handed Mike his pain medication. "So, what was your dream?"

"You care?" Mike asked as he put the tablet on his tongue.

"If I have to send you to a shrink for trauma from the accident I think I should know," Harvey said. Fuck he was so full of shit. Mike knew Harvey cared, no matter how much he pretended he didn't. The proof was right here, he was letting Mike stay in his home till he'd healed.

"I don't remember," Mike said and took a sip of water. He swallowed the pill but took another drink immediately. As he did so he heard a feint whooshing noise and felt Harvey tense, or sort of tense. It was a slight motion. Mike lowered his cup and almost spit all his water out. Harvey touched his knee, the strait, lame, one, but Mike just pointed urgently in front of him. Harvey turned.

There was a man in the doorway and Mike felt like he was standing in the middle of a low voltage electric storm. He was a bit younger than middle aged with a day's worth of growth along his jaw and cleft chin and his crow-black hair was twisted in a way Mike could only describe as permanently windswept. He wore a slightly ill fitted suit and a blue tie that was on the wrong way and a beige trench coat over it all. He was looking right at Mike and he felt suddenly like he didn't want to be seen. He wanted to become invisible.

Harvey stood up rather quickly. Mike couldn't take his eyes off the new man if he tried, even as Harvey spoke. "Who the hell are you? What are you doing here?" and advanced towards the man.

It was only in the span of a blink, but as soon as Harvey got close enough to reach out and touch the strange man he suddenly seemed to vanish. Mike saw the way he moved, like Harvey was suddenly too slow. Mike knew he could only see what he was seeing because of what he'd been what he (on bad days) still was. Than the man… no, angel, than the angel was in front of him and Mike leaned back into his pillows as those blue eyes met his own and seemed to stare into him. Under the angel's white shirt he saw something glow faintly.

Oh.

Oh this wasn't good.

The angel tilted his head at him, searching, but it was almost like he couldn't see, as though he was blind. Like he knew something was there, but he just couldn't see it. Mike held very still and barely dared to breath.

"Hey!" his eyes flickered away from the angel and saw Harvey again. This time he managed to grab the angel and seemed about to throw a punch.

"No!" Mike squeaked even as Harvey hit the angel square in the jaw. The angel didn't seem to notice, but Harvey looked like he'd broken his hand.

"I don't mean you any harm," the angel said, his voice low and gravelly. Mike knew the tone. He wasn't used to speaking so lowly. Mike hadn't for a long time either, but now it was harder to reach up in pitch. To Mike it was almost like he was whispering.

"Who the hell are you?" Harvey demanded, making a brave front to not show that his hand was probably in a lot of pain, though the first call that he'd broken it was a bit of an over estimation.

"That isn't important," said the angel. "Where is the other person in this room?" he asked, turning to Harvey.

"What are you a blind burglar or something?"

That didn't even ruffle a feather, "Tell me, where he is," they growled and advanced on Harvey.

"I'm right here," Mike said and the angel turned. So he was blind, but not deaf. "Who are you?" he asked.

"Where are you?" the angel asked and Mike felt himself shiver all over. That was the same voice from his dream.

"Right here."

"Mike what are you doing?" Harvey demanded.

"It's okay Harvey," Mike said, even as he swallowed, "He isn't here to hurt us. Are you?"

"No," the angel agreed though he kept looking for Mike. He had managed to look in the general area of Mike's face, probably because of the sound of his voice.

"What's your name?"

The angel blinked at him, "My name is Castiel."

"Oh…" Mike paled. Oh this was wonderful. His memories of heaven were vague in some places, a lot was wiped out, he didn't know how or why. He chalked it up to the trauma of having his wings clipped. But garrison leaders tended to stick.

"Mike, do you know this guy?" Harvey asked. "How did he even get in here? Who are you?"

Castiel turned to Harvey and in the most serious way that only angels could said, "I am an angel of the Lord."

Harvey blinked at Castiel, "Riiiight, and I'm the first pitching choice for the Yankees. Really. Who are you?"

Mike groaned. "Harvey," he said, "Will you… go away for a bit?"

"And leave you here with this freak show? Mike you know I don't trust guys with suits this trashy," he actually sounded offended as he motioned offhandedly to Castiel.

"Please. Just _go_," Mike pleased. "I'll explain later. But just…" he looked at Castiel who was looking around where his head should have been. "Please?" he pleaded.

Harvey was silent for several long moments, "I'll be right outside," he said, though it was obvious he didn't like it. He took a step back, than another, and another, and then finally turned and walked out the door. He closed it and Mike had no doubt in his mind he was listening in.

_"What are you doing here Castiel?_" he just spoke Enochian, it was easier, and he didn't want Harvey to hear. He could have picked any earth language he'd wanted and Castiel would have been able to keep up, but he missed Enochian. The sounds coming from his mouth started at human register but quickly moved up and beyond into above dog range. Mouth barely had to open his mouth to reach this octave, Castiel didn't even at all.

Castiel didn't show his surprise, if he even had any, _"I've been looking for you."_

_"Why?"_

Castiel pulled something from out of his shirt, "_I'm looking for God,_" he said, his lips didn't even move even as his voice sang across the air between them like an unreachable note.

_"Well he isn't here,_" Mike said hotly.

_"He is_," Castiel said. _"Why can't I see you?"_

_"I don't know."_

_"Can I touch you?"_

_"I don't know, can you?"_

Castiel frowned but leaned forward a bit, and his hand groped a moment before finding Mike's shoulder. "_Ah, there you are._ _Let me fix you."_

_"No,"_Mike said quickly.

"_There isn't any need for you to be in this contraption. I can heal you quite easily."_

_"Castiel. No._" He said firmly. "_Sometimes you have to be broken and heal the natural way._"

Castiel furrowed his brow at Mike curiously. _"You want the pain?_"

"_No. I want the relief," _Mike said irritably. "_It doesn't matter! I'm not God. I'm not even an angel and-_

_"You're an angel?"_

Mike gaped at him, _"No. I'm not," _but fuck didn't that hurt to say. It was like someone had just stabbed him with a punch knife. _"I'm not,_" he said again firmly.

Castiel frowned, _"Then what are you?"_he squeezed Mike's shoulder. "_I can't see you unless I touch you, and the amulet reacts to you. It is supposed to react to the presence of God._"

"_I'm not God okay? I'm not and I really want you to just… just go away,_" Mike pleaded. _"I'm going to be in enough trouble as it is with my boss because you just showed up in his home. Don't you know you can't just enter someone's home without permission?_" he demanded, though he knew Castiel didn't. _"This is his Nest Castiel. You can't just barge in here."_

Castiel tilted his head, but he said nothing. "_I did not know. Dean and Sam never had a problem when I enter their… Nests,"_ he seemed confused. "_You say you aren't an angel, or God. How do you know these things?"_ Castiel asked. Mike wanted to groan. He should have never brought it up.

"Fuck," he muttered and hung his head. "_It doesn't matter Castiel." _

"_It does,_" Castiel gripped his shoulder firmly and bent down to look into his eyes, "_You have no Grace, you are as you say. You are no angel. So how do you know so much?"_

"Mike, is everything okay in there?" Harvey called through the door suddenly, startling Mike. Castiel didn't even flinch.

"Yeah, fine!" Mike cried, knowing that the silence had probably been unnerving Harvey.

_"And you can reach up into the angel range… what are you?"_

_"If I tell you will you go away?"_ he demanded.

Castiel blinked, _"Yes_," and Mike never thought he'd see it. But there it was. An angel had just… lied. Mike was shocked. It was like he'd seen someone lie before but yet had never actually done it himself, or had done it rarely, and wasn't used to it. Castiel had an amazingly bad pokerface for an angel. To a human it would have appeared true, but Mike was… well he could still read angelic faces easier than human faces.

That itself was a mystery. It meant Castiel wasn't fresh from heaven, since only humans and demons lied, angels didn't. It was against their very nature to lie or to betray an order. Mike was more than a bit shocked, so he actually answered Castiel. "_I was an angel. Then I Fell,_" he said in a soft tone, dropping into the highest of dog range.

Castiel recoiled so abruptly it was shocking. He knocked into the side table and for the first time since he'd arrived flared his wings. Mike felt sick that he could see them as Castiel used them to stablize himself from his momentary clumsiness. His wings were black, though like someone had smeared soot across them and Mike thought he could see hints of beige and cream through some of the discoloration. It was almost like they'd been burned. What the hell had happened to Castiel. Then with an abrupt snap Castiel folded his wings and they seemed to vanish behind his back.

_"You are not who I'm looking for,_" Castiel said, his voice actually contemptuous. Then he looked at Mike, trying to find where his face was, and his eyes were fully of pity. Mike had to look away, he couldn't meet his eyes, even though Castiel couldn't see him. _"I am sorry for your loss_," and then there was a feint wooshing noise and he was gone.

Mike pressed a hand up to his face as he felt his eyes start to spill over. He tried to push the tears away, but they just wouldn't stop. He didn't even know why he was crying now. He just felt the crushing weight of loss upon him so abrupt it was as though someone had taken his heart and squeezed and squeezed and squeezed until he felt like it was going to pop. Distantly he heard the door open and Mike peered threw his fingers a little to see Harvey, confusion clear on his face and he silently walked over to the bed and sat down.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked. "Where'd that guy go?"

"It doesn't matter," Mike said around a hiccup.

"Did he do something? Mike, really, are you okay?" and Harvey laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. Mike shook his head and buried his face in his hands. His mind was clear and he couldn't hear anything. He couldn't hear the heavenly choir, or the sounds of life all around him, or the turn of the earth under his feet as thousands of millions of species clung to the surface of the world by their fingertips. No, his head was totally clear, and silent, and empty and despite Harvey being right there, touching him, he had never felt so alone.

He was shocked when Harvey suddenly hugged him. "Hey," he said said, "It's okay."

"You so care," Mike managed to mutter.

"Yeah. Just this once," Harvey said softly and his thumb stroked Mike's upper arm.

"I'm telling Donna," Mike said at a level barely above a whisper.

"Oh she knows rookie. She knows," and Mike knew that. Of course he knew that. Because Donna knew everything . Mike wiped his face for one last time, though his face was still wet and his nose a little runny, and after a moment hugged Harvey back.


	4. Speeding Cars

I'd be awesome if you all checked out this link http:/ /brokenballoons[.]tumblr[.]com/post[/]18043345545/help-out

* * *

><p><em>Now, now, darlin'<em>

_Oh don't lose your head_

_'Cause none of us were angels_

_And you know I love you, yeah_

It was morning, breakfast, when Mike knew Harvey would ask him about last night. The onslaught of emotions after Castiel had come and gone along with what remained of his sleeping pills and pain meds knocked him right out. He'd woken up in the guest bed, half curled around an indent in the mattress and no force on Earth could convince Mike otherwise that Harvey had been there up till recently.

On one hand he understood why Harvey would stay with him. He had after all thrashed out of bed earlier and then a crazy man in a trench coat had broken into his home and weirded him out. So maybe he was just being protective. But that brought him to why he didn't understand. Obviously Castiel hadn't hurt Mike. Not really. Not in any way physically had he hurt Mike. But his very presence had totally shattered him, and then he said he was looking for God, their father. He'd first thought Mike was who he was looking for, but it wasn't true and then when he'd found out what Mike was, he'd been disgusted. It was nothing Mike didn't expect, he knew well the connotation that came with being referred to as a Fallen. It brought up images of the first and only angelic civil war and the Fall of Lucifer and the Lost Garrison and the rise of Michael as the most powerful and righteous angel in heaven.

Harvey gave him his bagel and Mike slowly spread butter onto it. Harvey acted like there was nothing on his mind. But there was. Mike could read him plainly in the lines of his back. He couldn't read a face, but Mike could read your entire person from a glance at your back, since that was how angels normally emoted, with their wings. Coffee was placed in front of him as well as the sugar container and creamer and Mike fixed his coffee the way he liked it. Harvey didn't comment on his sugar intake.

He waited until Mike had finished eating, probably because he realized how hard it was to get Mike to eat real food, before he spoke. "So what happened last night?" Harvey asked and took a sip of his coffee.

Mike looked down into his own pale coffee, cupping the mug with both hands. "Can you be more specific?" he asked, not looking at Harvey.

Harvey placed his mug down on the island and Mike glanced up, Harvey was standing across from him, leaning against the island. "Who was that?"

"Castiel. He told you," Mike said. If Harvey wanted to really know what was going on, he'd tell him, he felt he owed Harvey that much, but he wouldn't give any information away for free. If Harvey wanted to know he'd have to work for it and ask the right questions.

"How the hell did he get in here? Also you seemed to know each other. Explain," he ordered.

Mike looked down at his coffee, "We were brothers once," he said slowly. "Not by blood," he added, "but by cause." He took a sip of his coffee.

"And how did he get in here?"

Mike frowned, "You won't believe me. In fact you'll think I'm crazy," he glanced up at him, "I don't want you to think I'm crazy Harvey."

"I won't," he said.

"Heh, right," he said bitterly, looking away. "The only person who I've told that didn't think I was crazy was Mrs. Ross, but even I don't think she believes me, for how devout she says she is."

"Mike," Harvey's voice forced him to look at him. "Tell me."

"Think of it sort of like… teleporting," he said lamely. "Moving faster than light and able to simply move between solid objects. That's how he got in here," he said. Harvey's face was blank, not angel blank, but pretty blank, and Mike looked down again and tipped his cup to make the coffee in it swirl.

"Okay," Harvey said slowly, digesting what Mike had just said. "So… how does he do that?" he could tell Harvey was trying. Which was more than most people did.

"He told you that already too Harvey," Mike said lowly. "Remember, you asked him who he was?"

"Yeah, he said he was 'an angel of the lord' or something," Harvey didn't sounds too impressed.

"Are you religious Harvey?" Mike asked him point blank.

"What? What does that have to-

"Are you religious?" Mike asked again, cutting him off.

Harvey shrugged, "My folks took me to church when I was younger, I was raised Catholic until my mom asked if my brother wanted to keep going. When he said no we stopped," he seemed almost uncomfortable with the admission.

"Well, then maybe you can believe. Castiel's an angel."

"Mike-

"You asked me, and him," Mike pointed out.

"It's ridiculous. There are no such things as angels Mike," Harvey said, like he was talking to a child.

Mike smiled painfully, "You have no idea what's out there Harvey," he said helplessly.

"So you're saying angels, are real?"

"Yes."

"And that guy in the dirty trench coat in my house last night was one of them?"

"Yes."

Harvey frowned, "Next thing you'll tell me that vampires and werewolves are real too," then he looked at Mike's face. "Are they…?"

"Yes," Mike said half into his cup of coffee. "The lore exists because they're real, Harvey," he looked at his boss carefully.

"But I thought angels were peaceful things with fluffy wings and halos and sat around on clouds playing harps," Harvey said and Mike could see he was desperately trying to rationalize everything. He didn't quite know what to make of everything.

It was the same thing that had happened when Mike had first met Mrs. Ross, a woman he called his gran. She was willing to listen to the strange young man who'd shown up at the hospital after car wreck that had killed her daughter, son-in-law and put her grandson into a coma. He hadn't meant to be there, but he had been and had heard her prayers, to no one in particular, and hadn't been able to stay away. He hadn't been able to help her grandson, but she was a bit senile even then and had confused him for her grandson. That was the first time Mike had been called the name he was now. Before that he hadn't had a name, because he'd wanted his own name back. He'd never had the heard to tell her it was wrong. He'd taken care of her, and in return she listened to him. At first she hadn't believed him, then she had and would sit and listen and offer kind words. She was the only one who believed, even if sometimes she seemed on the verse of not, especially when he talked about heaven.

"Angels are soldiers," Mike said quietly. "In all the Book religions angels are sent by God to punish humans for wrong doing or to signal a great change, such as when Gabriel went to Mary and told her her son would be a prophet. They aren't harp players Harvey, they're warriors, very good ones," he refused to look at his boss, since he knew he sounded crazy.

Harvey was silent for a while, and Mike could practically hear him thinking. At least he wasn't laughing at Mike and calling him stupid or loony. Trevor had let him get away with spouting off this sort of insanity, though usually he'd just thought Mike was high. He'd always joked about it and asked where Mike had gotten his drugs since they seemed especially good. Mike would just laugh and smoke another joint, wishing it would all just go away.

Finally Harvey asked the question Mike was sort of dreading. "I know you're smart Mike, but how do you know this stuff? What the hell have you read that made you seem like an expert on angels or even believe vampires and werewolves were real?" Harvey didn't believe him. Mike pressed a hand to his face. "I do want to believe you Mike. But what you're saying is pretty insane."

"I know it is," Mike said then he pulled his hand away and looked at Harvey, "But it's true."

"How do you know?" was Harvey's simple question.

"Because… you could say I'm one of-

"Just give me the answer strait Mike," Harvey told him firmly.

Mike ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it, "I… I was one of them," he said and he felt wide eyed and like he'd just admitted something awful. Harvey's confused look didn't help. "I… Harvey, I'm not human," he said.

"That's ridiculous-

"Harvey, I'm an angel too. Or I was," he shook his head slightly, "I was, but I'm not anymore and that's why Castiel was here and that's why I knew him and that's why I've got this crazy brain and why I don't know anything yet know everything," by the end it was a miracle he was even understood his voice was cracking so much. He was half way to another break down. He was having them more. Not being able to get high and the stress of his job and of always pleasing Harvey and then the accident and falling back on being able to not always hear and feel everything all the time. It felt so good to be deaf and blind and numb to the bigger world around him, and yo-yoing between it and being able to feel wasn't helping his mental state. Castiel had been the topper on the cake and he was so close to just breaking. If Harvey didn't believe him…

Harvey didn't say anything, he just stared at Mike. Trying to understand. Mike could see it though. He didn't understand. He thought Mike was cracked, probably from the accident. He opened his mouth but was cut off by the sound of his cellphone. Harvey pulled it out, glanced at Mike and then turned away, putting it to his ear.

Mike didn't listen. He just felt sick. Sick and numb and like his world had just fallen out from under him. Harvey had said that he wanted to know if he had suffered from a traumatic experience during the accident. Mike had, of course, said no, and Harvey had believed him at the time. Mike doubted Harvey believed him now.

Harvey finished his conversation, "This isn't over, but I have to go into the office," he said. Thank goodness; saved by work! Mike just nodded mutely and Harvey left the kitchen, heading upstairs to his bedroom. Once Mike heard the door close he gathered up his crutches and made for the guest bedroom. He left his coffee on the counter, it was cold.

—

There was an obvious silence in the condo after Mike's confession. Harvey seemed too wary to bring up what Mike had said despite his statement that the conversation wasn't over and he seemed content to just want to ignore that anything had ever happened that night. Mike was more than happy to accommodate him in that and as per Harvey's silent request didn't bring it up either. Harvey was gone in the mornings when Mike woke up, his sleep no better than it had been making him sleep late and wake up feeling exhausted. There was always work for him in the morning, but Mike found himself doing less and less. He was having trouble continuing functioning on the level he was used to and unless Harvey was home to make him Mike didn't eat. He couldn't find the stomach to do so, or the drive. He just... he just wanted his nest.

Several days later, Mike didn't know how many, he'd sort of lost count, Mike just couldn't take it. He put on some real clothes, jeans and a shirt, and got into the elevator. He jammed the ground floor button impatiently and the elevator glided down the shaft to the bottom floor. He leaned against the wall, pain meds in his pocket, and focused on the sound of the elevator and nothing else. Not how he'd get to his apartment, not what Harvey would think when he came home.

The doors dinged open and he hobbled out on his crutches. Robert, the doorman opened the door for him. "Does Mr. Specter know you're leaving Michael?" he asked. Of course Harvey had told his doorman.

"Don't care. Hail me a cab would you?" he asked, leaning against his crutches heavily. Robert nodded slowly and stopped a cab in front of the building and helped Mike in.

"Should I inform Mr. Specter of when you intend to return?" he asked politely before closing the door. While Mike was annoyed by the questions be didn't hold it against him. He was just doing his job.

"He knows how to get in touch with me," was Mike's answer. Robert just nodded and closed the door. Mike told the driver his home address and as they pulled away from the curb Mike popped a pill into his mouth. High above the the City he could start to hear the faintest trace of Castiel's voice; searching.

—

Getting up the stairs to his apartment took more time than he'd anticipated. But he got up them, pulling himself up step by step. Then he was facing his door and slid the key into the familiar lock.

He sighed with a broad grin as he pushed the door. His apartment was just as he'd let it. He dropped his keys into the bowl next to the door and hobbled to his bed where he sat. His next course of action took him a bit of time as he shucked off his jeans and threw his shirt across the room before laying down on his bed. The sheets were cool against his skin and he felt the way the soft fabric slid against the brutal scars on his back. He sighed with content and closed his eyes, laying on top of the sheets before squirming under the sheets and pressing deep into the softness of his bed.

All angels had a Nest in the Great Tree that stood at the center of the Garden. Pockets of different space, much like a person's heaven, in the great sweeping boughs of the Tree. It was where angels could rest, or rarely, sleep. Angels didn't sleep, even in heaven, at least not the way humans thought of it. It was more like going into a coma and all the Grace that had been pouring into them when they were awake had a chance to seep out. Without sleep angels became over loaded with power and it was a way to 'shed extra weight' if you would. Mike had always enjoyed his sleep, even in heaven where his Nest was the softest bed, more comfortable than any human could even understand. On Earth he'd first hated sleep, since he never seemed more alert or awake when he woke up at first, like he was used to. It had taken him years to fully appreciate human sleep.

Now? Now Mike loved sleep and loved his bed and loved his nest, which while could never compare to the one in heaven was still wonderful and soft and light and warm and cradled him like the gentle arms of a parent.

Mike sighed again, a deep, blissed out sound as he buried himself in his blankets and pillows and for the first time since his accident, truly slept.

—

He was in the garden heaven again. The one where the middle aged man flew the kite. This time Mike recognized it for what it was. It was quiet here, and peaceful, and warm. Mike found himself flying a kite with the balding man. It was a bright yellow butterfly with red markings and a long black tail. Mile smiled at it. He could understand why this was this man's heaven.

Then he started to hear Castiel again. Now he recognized the pitch of the other angel's voice. Mike ignored him even as the angel's voice spun higher and higher up, searching, but seemed unable to find whatever he was looking for. Mike waved his hand by his ear as though Castiel's voice was an annoying gnat as he screamed and whispered 'where are you?' over and over again like an unending echo. Mike never answered him.

—

Mike woke when he felt his bed being sat on. He blinked his eyes several times and pushed himself up onto his elbows, confused as to what he was seeing and why it was there. He hadn't expected this.

"Castiel?" Mike asked, cocking his head slightly.

The other angel was sitting on his bed leaning forward slightly to hand his hands between his knees, fingtertips pressed together. His mouth was a thin line and his brow was creased over his eyes. When Mike said his name he looked up and over. "Hello Michael," he said, voice a gravely whisper to his ears.

"You can see me?" that was a surprise. Last time Castiel hadn't been able to without touch, and they weren't touching.

"Yes, I can," he said. "Tell me, did you carve the Enochian into your skeleton, or did someone else?"

"W-what?" Mike squeaked and looked at his arm as if he would be able to see the Enochian.

"There is Enochian written on every bone in your body. You didn't know?"

"That's impossible. I was x-rayed, and what are you doing here?"

"It's very small," Castiel said, "probably why they didn't notice."

"Castiel _what_ are you doing here?" Mike demanded.

"The amulet led me here," Castiel said and produced it again, pulling it from his shirt. "I sensed someone in New York. I met you, but I thought it couldn't be so. Then, now, it led me back here again to you."

"I am not God," Mike growled. "I told you, I'm a-" he couldn't even say the word, and choked on his own tongue.

"I know, which is why it's strange. What is more strange though is your skeleton."

"You mean the Enochian?"

"Yes. The signs are old, I haven't seen them used in… a long time," he looked far away a moment and Mike knew what he meant. He was referring to the Fall of Lucifer. After the Civil War much had been lost. The library had been looted, records destroyed, angels who knew spells they told to no one else had either Fallen or been killed in the crossfire of war. So much knowledge had just been wiped off the face of heaven and no attempt had been made to retrieve it, because Michael had insisted upon moving forward, forgetting Lucifer and starting anew.

"Well I didn't put them there," Mike said sourly.

Castiel gave him a long look, "Than who did?"

"I have no clue," he huffed and even as he said that memories flickered through his mind. An angel with duel colored eyes and a tender voice, spoken softly, and almost lost in the rain, promising _they_ would take care of him. Whoever '_they'_ were. Castiel frowned slightly, he looked like the sort of guy who did it quite a bit actually. "So…?"

"You say you aren't God, I beleive you. But I trust the amulet, it reacts to prophets as well."

"You mean Chuck?" he blurted out before he could stop himself. There was only one prophet alive and Mike was surprised he remembered in the first place.

"…Yes," Castiel continued, "You aren't one are you?"

"No. I'm not."

"Then what are you?" he tilted his head to the side a little.

"I told you. I Fell," Mike said and his back broke out into goosebumps at even mentioning it. "They clipped my wings."

Castiel didn't seem pleased by this, "Michael cut many wings after the War. Who were you?"

"… I don't remember," Mike admitted.

But now Castiel was curious, "How are you even alive now? You should have died a human from how long ago the War was."

"I don't remember."

"How old are you?"

"No idea."

"Did you Fall recently?"

"I don't know."

Castiel frowned, "You are nothing but questions Michael."

"No kidding," Mike rolled his eyes. "So… why are you looking for our father anyway?"

"To stop the apocolypse."

Mike blinked, "What?" he felt like he should know this. But it was fuzzy and he couldn't grasp the specifics. He knew there would be agreat fight that would crack the world in two between the two strongest angels. But— he felt he should know more.

"Lucifer has been freed from his Cage."

"Oh," Mike paled. "But… why do you care?" his brow furrowed, "You're with Michael, isn't that what he wants?"

"Yes," Castiel agreed, "but… I have met both Michael and Lucifer's vessels, neither of them are willing. I'm trying to help them because free will is more important than prophecy," he seemed unsure of himself though.

"Well, I don't know what it means coming from me, but I think they're right. Free will is important."

"How do you do it?" Castiel asked him.

Mike blinked, "How do I do what?"

"You rememeber being one of us, how do you just-" Mike's phone started to ring. Mike grabbed it from the side table but screened the call, not even looking at who it was. Mike apologized and asked him to continue, "How do you just do whatever you want?"

Mike smirked, "I was not the most up standing angel Castiel. I did my duty yes, and I followed orders. But there was always-" he bit his lips a moment. "Why are you helping them? The vessels I mean," Mike said and scooted forward a little and wrapped his blanket around him. Castiel seemed uncomfortable with answering, "You can tell me Castiel. I mean, who am I to judge?" and he shrugged his shoulders.

"I want to help them. They say that it's important to do with your life what you want, not what you have to do. Sam did that, he left his family, to do what felt right to him, even if it wasn't what he was supposed to do. I… guess I feel the same," Castiel was having difficulty with the entire thing. Mike understood and he reached out and briefly brushed his fingertips against Castiel's shoulder. It was a brief contact that was as familiar as a squeeze of a hand. If Mike had been whole he would have used his wings, but they were gone. It was a comforting motion and Castiel seemed consoled by it. "I doubt my supriors," Castiel admitted lowly.

Mike beamed like a proud elder brother, "That's how you have free will Castiel," he said. "That's why I'm here, and not up there," he pointed skyward, "I had doubt."

"You seem… happy."

"I'm not," Mike said, still smiling. "But it's good to see not all the angels I left behind are giant dicks," Castiel didn't get the refrance and Mike didn't hold it against him. "But what does God, or me, have to do with the apocolypse?"

"He could stop it, and if Lucifer and Michael were stopped than Sam and Dean wouldn't get hurt, wouldn't have to sacrifice themselves."

"And of course everyone would live just once?"

"That is the plan," Castiel nodde.d

"Well, I'm not God Castiel. I mean, I call him 'our father' too. I'm not a prophet either in which case I would and wouldn't be but that's neither here nor there," he waved his hand and pulled his non-bum leg up to his chest. "I'm not even an angel Castiel."

"You aren't human though," Castiel pointed out.

"Not yet. Getting there. Slowly," he frowned a little. "I used to see reapers, now I can't. I used to be able to reach higher in the angel spectrum, I can't now, and when you moved last night, I could barely see you. I'm not human, but I will be. One day I'll stop hearing the host."

"I'm sorry."

"You kidding? I'm not. Why do you think I'm actually glad about this leg?" he smacked his cast covered leg. "Pain pills block them out. It's sort of great," and then Castiel looked guilty. "Castiel… what's the matter?"

"I might have… fixed your leg," and Mike had never heard someone sound so apologetic about doing something he thought was helping someone.

"Oh," Mike said dumbly. "I told you not to," he said.

"I know," he sighed, still apologetic, "When I could finally see you I came to see who it was, I thought it would be someone else. I was here while you slept-

"So not creepy," Mike couldn't help but interject.

"You seemed in pain," Castiel admitted, "I know you've gone through… unimaginable agony from what our brothers did to you. I thought you wouldn't want any more. Forgive me."

"Man when you say it like that I can't really be pissed. I mean that'd make me out as a d-bag wouldn't it?" Castiel nodded though Mike could tell he didn't understand part of what Mike was saying. There was a sudden knocking at Mike's door. He saw Castiel tense, "Hey, it's cool," he said quickly, though he wasn't expecting anyone, and it was dark out now, though the clock said it was still early. "Who is it?" he called louder.

"Mike, open the door," it was Harvey.

Shit.

"Castiel," Mike said, voice lowered so Harvey wouldn't hear through the door, "Can you leave for a bit? Not that it isn't cool having one of my brothers around, but I need to deal with this."

"I still wanted to-

"I know, we're having this whole cool bonding thing. But just for a bit? Like, give me a few hours."

Castiel frowned, "Fine," he agreed, "after I want to discuss why the amulet reacts to you."

"Sure, sure, just go off. Oh, wait," he grabbed Castiel's lapel without thinking. "Take this damn thing off me?" he asked motioning to the cast under the sheets. "My leg isn't broken, no use keeping it." Castiel looked sorry again but laid his hand on the cast and Mike heard it crack. "Thanks," he said and released Castiel who was gone in a whoosh.

Mike tossed the blankets aside and shed his cast, which Castiel had cracked into two perfect pieces. Once it was gone he slid out of bed, gingering testing the leg. It didn't hurt, and the muscle wasn't entirely decrepit, but he would walk with a slight limp till he'd built the muscle back up from not using it for two weeks. As he went to his closet Harvey knocked again. "Hold your horses, I'm not decent," Mike called.

"I don't care if you're in your fucking birthday suit, open the damn door," Harvey wasn't happy, that was obvious. It made Mike quickly pull on his clothing though before limping to the door and unlocked the two locks. The door, which was always stiff, came open with a hard pull. Harvey stood in his doorway, his suit immaculate, looking like he'd just come from work. "What the hell did you think you were doi- where's your cast?" he was instantly derailed by whatever tangent he was going to go on by the fact that Mike was just standing there, without his crutches and in shorts on top of that, very clearly showing that no, he wasn't in a cast.

"Don't need it," Mike said.

"Are you high?" Harvey asked, brow furrowing and made one of his hand gestures that meant 'what is wrong with you?'

"No," Mike said simply, "Castiel fixed it."

Harvey's face drew dark instantly, "He was here?"

"Yeah, we talked, he fixed my leg, and now he's gone. I thought you weren't talking about Castiel?"

"Yeah, about that," Harvey said, only deflecting slightly, at least Mike got him to admit he was doing it. "First off, let me in," he said and Mike stepped out of his way. Like the last time Harvey had been to his apartment Harvey looked sort of surprised by the entire place. He turned back on Mike as he closed the door. Mike leaned against the door and looked at him silently, he knew Harvey would say whatever it was he had to say on his own time. "Where do you get off leaving without telling me?" Harvey demanded.

"Worried?"

"Marginally. I don't exactly find genius level law drop-outs on every street corner. What if you'd broken your neck on the stairs?" he waved at Mike's door.

"Well I didn-

"Also you didn't tell me," Harvey said, "The doctors agreed to let you out of the hospital because you had a place to go, technically I am in charge of your well being after the accident."

Mike bowed his head a little, he gave a little huff and looked up, "No offense Harvey, but your guest bed aint that comfortable."

"Excuse me?" that wasn't the answer he was expecting and it momentarily put a stopper on his anger.

"I left because I couldn't sleep," Mike told him, "After that one morning it was basically impossible and the sleeping aids weren't doing much," he shrugged. "So I came to a place I knew I could sleep, where I wouldn't be bothered, or bother you," he said.

Harvey rubbed his face, "This is about the whole freaky angel thing isn't it?" Harvey asked flatly.

"You tell me," Mike said and folded his arms across his chest and Harvey looked him up and down with a frown. "You said we had to talk about it, than nothing."

Harvey stared at him and then he took a steadying breath, "I want to believe you Mike," he said seriously and Mike started, but not in a bad way.

"Really?" he asked hopefully, his hands dropping to the side.

"Yeah," Harvey nodded, "As insane and freaky as it sounds, I want to believe you. You've never lied to me before—

"But?" there was always a but.

"You have to tell me _everything_."

"Everything?" Mike asked, "There's a lot to tell Harvey, you sure you want it all?"

Harvey straitened a little, looking every inch the best closer in the city he was. "If I didn't I feel I'd be giving you a disservice," he said.

Mike made a bit of a face, slightly amused, a bit confused, a bit mischievous. "Okay," he said at last and pushed off the door, "I'll tell you everything," he said with a half knowing smile.


	5. Devil On My Shoulder

I'd be awesome if you all checked out this link http:/ /brokenballoons[.]tumblr[.]com/post[/]18043345545/help-out

* * *

><p><em>I got a devil on my shoulder<em>

_And an angel on the other_

_And when that demon shemes that angel only stutters_

It was back into the monkey suits. They choked his throat and always made him feel like he was having trouble breathing. He sucked it up though, you needed a suit to get into a swank place like this. Fucking corporate assholes.

Dean hated suits and hated people who wore them.

Next to him Sam rocked back and forth on his heels as the elevator slowly rose up to the higher floors of the sky scraper. The cheap, fake leather of his shoes squeaked and Dean had to restrain himself from telling Sam to stop his damn fidgeting. He only refrained because someone else come into the elevator and Dean couldn't help but sweep his eyes up and down her as she stood with her back to him as the elevator rose again. She had a nice ass.

The elevator dinged and the woman got off, her heels clicking on the tile of the elevator bank foyer before meeting the carpet. This was their stop too and Dean was all too happy to follow after that fine piece of ass. "Dean, be professional," Sam hissed as they walked out of the elevator.

"Hey, I am the pinnacle of professionalism," Dean gave Sam a smug little smirk and gave the lapels a classy tug. Sam just rolled his eyes as they strolled casually up to the receptionist desk. Across the bottom read Pearson and Hardman.

"Excuse me," Sam said resting his hands on the top of the receptionist desk.

The woman didn't even look up, "Do you have an appointment?"

"No-

"Pearson and Hardman only works by appointment, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," she still didn't even look up.

Dean cleared his throat, shot Sam a look and dug into the inner pocket of his jacket. "I doubt we need an appointment, miss," she glanced at him, looking like she wished he'd just go away. Then she did a double take. "Agent Hetfield, this is agent Rose," he nodded at Sam as they flashed their bogus FBI badges at her. The secretary immediately straitened.

"I'm sorry sirs," she said quickly. "Ms. Pearson isn't in right now-

"That's fine," Dean cut her off as they put away their badges, "We're looking for… Harvey Specter," he half looked at Sam for confirmation, Sam was better at names than him.

She nodded quickly, "Take the hall down that way," she leaned forward a bit as she pointed. "Take the third left and follow it all the way down, he's the corner office," she rattle off.

"Thank you," Sam said and they left the desk.

"Easy as pie," Dean said cheerfully. "Lets check out this weird mojo Cas told us about and get the hell out of here. Sam nodded in agreement and they made good time to Harvey Specter's office.

The secretary wasn't there and the office was empty. Dean looked around surreptitiously as he went to the door and after seeing it was locked he just picked the lock (not like it was hard, the office wasn't exactly fort Knox) and he and Sam went inside.

Sam closed the blinds quickly as Dean started to look around. "Well, I don't smell sulphur," he said and lazily browsed through the _massive_ collection of records this Specter guy had. Dang he had some old and classic prints and Dean was deeply impressed. Behind him Sam sat at Specter's desk and he heard his little brother tap away at the computer. Dean continued to poke around and was surprised when he came upon what was a closet. "Oh? What do we have here?" Dean asked. Secret dark magic idol?

Nope.

Dean frowned, actually let down when all he found was two or three way too expensive suits and a pair of shoes. He even dug in the pockets; nothing. No secret compartments. "So?" he threw back to Sam.

"Nothing interesting," Sam said, "Just legal documents, which makes sense. Nothing weird or occultist—"

"What?"

"Seems Mr. Specter was doing some very interesting research," he said.

"Oh yeah? About what?" Dean asked lopping over to him curiously and stood just behind him, hand on the back of the nice leather chair.

"I'm seeing vampires, werewolves, demons, and… angels," the last one unnerved them both. "Lots of stuff on angels—

"Excuse me," they both looked up at the voice and standing in the door way was what Dean could only refer to as a red headed bomb shell. She had sharp green eyes and mile long legs, a cup of coffee in her hand and she did not look _amused_ at all. If anything, she looked pissed. Dean himself had a healthy appreciation for wrathful red heads and felt like a kid who'd just been caught elbow deep in the cookie jar. "Can I help you?" came her sharp demand.

"Ah, excuse us, we were just conducting a—

"Give me one reason I shouldn't call security this instant, and the police as well for breaking and entering as well as snooping through Harvey's computer," and she came into the room like a storm.

Dean paled a little, thankfully Sam wasn't nearly as intimidated by her as he was, though maybe that wasn't a good thing. "We're FBI ma'am," he said.

She leered at them, "Let me see your badges," she said sharply and held out a perfectly manicured hand. They handed them over. "Agent James Hetfield and Kurt Rose…" she looked at them both, "Were you boys born yesterday or something?" and she threw them back at them. "I'm calling security and the FBI, I'm sure they'll be thrilled to know two idiots are impersonating federal agents," and she turned on a heel and marched towards the door.

Dean didn't think, he just moved and before he knew what he was doing he'd grabbed the red head and clamped his hand over her mouth. She gave a shout through his hand as he pulled her back into the office. Then he saw a few stars as she head butted him with the back of her head and then stamped on his foot with her heel. It was all Dean could do to hold on, even when she bit him. She fucking _bit_ him! She shoved him and he was surprised when instead of running she just turned and kicked him, right in the nuts.

Dean folded like a house of cards with a quiet, high groan of pain, hands on his crotch. Oh God that hurt like a mother fucker.

"Hey, hey," he heard Sam saying through the buzzing pain in his head. "We aren't here to hurt you."

"Frankly I'm more concerned for his safety than my own," she said sharply.

"Look, we'll leave, right now," Sam said quickly, "and we won't bother you again."

She eyed them, now suspicious, "What were you doing here?" she demanded. Sam looked at Dean, Dean didn't do in like, he was too busy trying to confirm that everything south of the border still worked properly.

"It doesn't matter-

"Like hell it does," she snapped. "You broke into my boss' office, snooped through his stuff and then Mr. Metallica over here just jumped me. Explain. Now," and her tone left no room to squirm out of.

Dean was finally getting to his feet, haggard and he was going to walk with a limp for a few hours cause of this. "We thought your boss was looking into some freaky stuff," he managed.

"Like what?"

Dean glanced at Sam, who's lips were a thin line. "Occult stuff."

The woman laughed, "You two must be brain damaged, Harvey isn't interested in the occult," she said contemptuously.

"Yeah, that's exactly what we thought and we were-

"Wait a second," she interrupted the taller man. "You two. You're hunters."

The brothers exchanged helpless looks, "Excuse me?" Dean asked, more than a little confused.

"You're hunters, right?"

"Uh… yes?" though or some reason Sam seemed unsure and Dean was right there with him. Usually they didn't get called out on their lifestyle of choice.

The woman seemed to relax, "Well, that explains a bit. Including the fake badges."

"You know about hunters?" Sam asked curiously.

"Donna Reid," she said, "My family are hunters back in the '_motherland_'," and she even did the air quotes, "Never met hunters on this side of the pond though," she said, now with a fair bit of mirth. "Now tell me who you are. Who you _really_ are, or I really will call the FBI."

They exchanged looks, "I'm Sam Winchester, this is my brother Dean," Sam said and there was a flair of recognition but little else.

"Well," she said as patiently as a mother to her two misbehaving children, "My boss, is in no way into the occult. Trust me, I sweep his office often enough to have picked up any hex bags, crazy voodoo or sigels."

"His internet history would say otherwise," Sam interjected and Donna gave him this _look_ as if she neither wanted nor expected Sam to respond to her, nor did she want to hear anything he had to say. Dean snorted, amused to see his moose of a brother cowed by a woman more than an entire head shorter than him, even with those ridiculous heels of hers.

"Look… kids," she looked them both over, "I've known Harvey for a long time. If he was looking up any of that stuff it was just for kicks, or he was bored."

Dean didn't like it, "Look, no offense Donna, I don't know how you do it wherever you're from but—

Now Donna gave him _the look_ and he shut right up. He blinked in actual surprise. "You also didn't come up here for no reason. Why would you even think Harvey was up to something in the first place?"

"We got a tip," Sam said lamely.

"A tip? From who?" and Dean had a sinking feeling that the who might meet their end at the wicked tongue of Donna Reid, professional secretary and second scariest woman had ever met, the first being Ellan.

"Uhm… a friend," Sam said helplessly.

"Name."

"Well… oh…" they both stiffened a little and Donna turned slowly, realizing they were no longer looking at her.

"Well, that's a new one," she said without even a touch of surprise.

"That's our source. Donna, this is Castiel."

"Hello Castiel," she said, "I hope you have better manners than your human friends," Cas' eyebrows furrowed. "So what are you?"

"I'm an angel of the Lord," he said without humor.

"Definitely a new one," and turned back to the boys. "I'm going to overlook this incident," she told them. "But you take your butts and your pet… angel out of the firm and if I ever see you up here or anywhere near here. Well," she didn't even need to finish the threat, Dean was already fearing for his life as he had no doubt to his mind that this woman who they'd just met would be able to pick them apart like it was nothing.

"You got it," and Sam grabbed Dean by the arm and dragged him out of the office. Dean managed to grab Cas, who was looking at Donna curiously, as he was towed out. Donna followed them out and stood in the doorway, arms folded across her chest, sharp eyes watching them walk away.

"Dean," Sam said once he was sure everyone could walk on their own.

"Yeah?" Dean asked shooting a glance over his shoulder at Donna who was on her phone, texting someone.

"Lets never do that again, _ever_," Sam said breathlessly.

"Yeah, good idea," Dean said as they marched down the hallway back towards the elevators, Castiel following with silent confusion behind them. It wasn't until they were safely in the elevator that he remembered their fake badges in Specter's office. The trouble with that though was that neither he or Sam wanted to go back and get them.

Down on the New York City streets, and far away from Donna Reid, Dean finally thought to ask Castiel why he was here. "You said something was up with that guy, what the hell Cas?" Dean demanded.

"I think that woman was a demon," Cas said in his no humor tone. That was not the answer he was expecting.

"What?" he squinted at Cas.

"I'm not sure, it isn't important now," he waved his hand.

"What were you doing there?" Sam actually got to the root of the problem.

"I found Him… or part of Him," Castiel said and reached into his shirt. "You can have this back," and he pulled Dean's amulet off from his neck. Dean took it back, it was warm in his hand from where it had rested against Castiel's too hot skin. After a moment Dean tugged it over his own head. The leather thong caught on his ear for a moment before it settled against his neck again and he was shocked how much he'd missed the comfortable weight of the necklace. It wasn't even heavy, but he'd been wearing it for so long that even the short few weeks Cas had had it made it feel like he was getting a part of himself back.

"Well, that's great," Sam said. "Where is he? He here in New York?"

"Yes," Cas nodded.

"Wait, hold up," Dean stopped them both. "I'm all for you finding God Cas, but you sent us on a goose chase to some lawyer's office with a scary secretary, you say she might be a demon, she says she's a hunter, and we get no explanation," he glowered at the angel.

"He was with Michael. I thought perhaps he had information, when I followed him to his work the other day I sensed… demonic energy."

"Well it is a law firm," Sam said, but not without a fair bit of humor.

"And you wanted to be one of those sharks," Dean said without delight to his little brother, Sam just shrugged.

"It is possible that she's just a human. I was distracted, I thought it best you meet Michael, he is… very human," there was an odd tone to Cas' voice.

"Just so we're clear. This is a human named Michael, not your crazy archangel brother," Dean clarified.

"He is… human," Cas agreed.

"Good enough for me," Dean clapped his hands together lightly. "Tell us where to go, we'll go."

"I could just-

"Oh no," Dean shook a finger at the angel, "you zapping us places turns my guts into knots. No zapping, give us an address."

Cas frowned, "One moment," and then he vanished.

"You think it's the real deal?" Sam asked.

"Well I friggin hope so," Dean groused, "The idea of being Michael's suit to the prom isn't exactly my idea of a good time." Before Sam could respond Castiel reappeared and recited the address, "Great, we'll meet you there Cas, less you wanna come with us in the Impala?"

Cas didn't answer right away, he actually seemed awkward… well, more awkward. Hesitant. "If you don't mind I tag along," he said at last.

"No sweat, lets go, rush hour'll be starting to soon, I can just tell."

"You even know how to get there?" Sam asked as they walked towards where Dean had parked the Impala in the parking garage.

"I can figure it out," Dean waved him off, "I'm sure Cas can get us there," he gave Cas a smile and Cas just nodded mutely.

—

As luck would have it they _did_ hit rush hour traffic. So what should have been maybe a half an hour drive turned into one that lasted several hours. Dean tapped out time on the steering wheel while they waited before they got to the borough they were going to. From there Cas played the navigator, popping in and out of the back seat and directing them where they had to go.

They ended up in front of a plain apartment building made of large concrete blocks. "This the place?" Dean asked.

"Yes, Michael lives on the top floor," Cas nodded.

"Awesome," Dean groaned. "So does Mikey know he's God or what?"

"In a sense," Castiel said and when Dean looked back at the angel he saw the guy was looking up, through the window, at the top floor.

"Well, lets go say hello then, no use just sitting here."

"Lets go say hi to God," Sam agreed and they pushed open their doors and stepped out. Cas appeared outside the car, couldn't even be bothered to open the door, friggen angels.

"Lead the way Cas," Dean said and they followed Cas up the steps of the stoop. Cas just opened the door, angel mojo was pretty useful stuff after all, and they started the climb upwards.

"Oh boy," Sam said sarcastically as he looked up the stairwell.

"Oh quite your bitching Sam and lets just get up there," and Sam gave him a look Dean could only call a 'bitch face' and followed after Castiel.

By the time they reached the fifth floor both Dean and Sam were winded. They were both in pretty great shape, but stairs were still the enemy to even the most fit man. Cas, of course, wasn't winded in the slightest. "Here we are," he said and stared at the door like it was suddenly going to reach out and bite him.

"Hello God," Dean muttered sarcastically, "I really hope God's a good host," he said and raised his hand to knock as Sam dragged himself over to him, but he paused. From inside he thought he heard someone groan in pain. He looked at Sam who's face was just as alarmed. Dean tried the knob, locked, another pain like groan. "Lets hope God isn't getting killed in there," Dean said.

"Oh for the love of," Sam rolled his eyes at him, "Just kick the door down, you look like you've been wanting to do that since we left the law firm."

With a sort of grim grin Dean took a step back from the door. Next to him Sam pulled out a knife from the inside of his jacket. Dean's foot slammed against the door and the cheap lock broke, the door swung open.

"Oh shit," and Dean heard the sound of Sam slapping his hand over his eyes.


	6. Smile

I'd be awesome if you all checked out this link http:/ /brokenballoons[.]tumblr[.]com/post[/]18043345545/help-out

* * *

><p><em>And I forget to breathe,<em>

_What's an angel like you,_

_Ever do with a devil like me_

Mike hadn't been lying when he'd told Harvey there was a lot to tell. Harvey had made him start at the beginning. The _very_ beginning. By that Mike took him to mean how the world was created and God and angels and Heaven and Harvey didn't correct him. Instead he was just quiet as Mike told him a story of creation that was unlike that told in the Bible, or the Torah, or the Q'ran, or any other holy book that worshipped God. There were similar points, but God never cast Adam and Eve out of Eden, because Eden wasn't a place for humans, it was a place for angels. There was no snake, there was no forbidden fruit or tree of knowledge, there was just… people created in God's image and able to think and feel and doubt and love and hate and learn and imagine.

Angels didn't do those things apparently, at least not like humans did. Compared to humans angels were conservative as could be, but to each other their emotions were obvious. Harvey didn't interrupt as Mike talked, he was just trying to soak it all in. He'd felt sort of dumb researching vampires and werewolves on the internet, but as Mike continued to talk he felt less foolish.

Harvey asked a few questions, he wanted to know about monsters. Mike had those answers too. They came from neither heaven, nor hell, nor earth, but an in between place who's name he couldn't recall. That was where they came from first, but over time they'd become less of what they were and adapted to life on earth. Hearing about all the monsters made Harvey's skin crawl. He asked if they were all real and Mike simply said that if there was lore for it, it probably did in some form but he said his memory wasn't perfect.

That was another thing. While Mike knew a lot Harvey got the feeling there were huge gaps in his memory. Like he could recall no angel by name even as he spoke of them. Nor could he remember the place monsters came from. Harvey would have thought both those things to be pretty damn important and that Mike should remember them. Mike just smiled sadly at him but said he just didn't remember.

"And you're an angel," Harvey said. They were sitting on Mike's bed, he had no idea when they'd ended up here but he really wasn't complaining. Mike's bed was amazingly soft, maybe better than his own, at the least it wasn't as firm as harvey might have liked, but hey, it was the rookie's bed, he could sleep on whatever the fuck he wanted. Not to mention this was the bed he'd left Harvey's very nice guest bed to come sleep on.

"Was," Mike said. "I _was_ an angel."

"What happened? You drop your halo?" he teased a little but from Mike's face knew it was no matter to tease about. Mike rubbed the side of his neck self consciously. "Mike?" he reached out and carefully laid a hand on Mike's calf, his muted eyes looked up at him and for a being as old as time he looked amazingly young.

"I don't think I'm ready to tell that story," Mike said softly.

"You told me you told your gran about you being an angel."

"Not that though," he shook his head slightly. "I've never told anyone about it."

"Okay," Harvey said, "Well what about this here?" and his hand slid down his leg to his ankle. Mike wasn't wearing any shoes, or socks, and it hadn't taken Harvey long to notice. There were scars here too, wrapped around his ankles like shackles.

"Part of that story," Mike said.

"Oh," Harvey looked up at him, tearing his eyes away from the scars on his ankle, but didn't move his hand. He had a feeling the ones on Mike's back had to do with _that_ _story_ as well. "Well what was heaven like? You've been pretty vague."

Mike shook his head, "I don't remember. There's so much I don't remember Harvey."

"Yet you could tell me the creation of the universe," Harvey joked.

Mike smiled, "Yeah, well, whoever… did this to me, made sure I couldn't remember," he shrugged, "Makes my memory incomplete."

"Well how about you tell me about your time here than?"

"On Earth?"

"Yeah, I mean, you weren't born here," and he realized he was stroking Mike's ankle, he hadn't even noticed, and Mike didn't tell him to stop, so he didn't.

"I woke up in this big field," Mike said. "I had no memory, at all. No name, no idea who or what I was. I walked to a nearby town and this nice woman at a diner gave me pancakes and kept giving me coffee. I stayed there all day, I didn't know where else to go, who I even was," Harvey nodded. "While I sat there I kept feeling like I was waiting for something to happen."

"Did it?"

"No," Mike confessed. "I hitchhiked into lower New York, sometimes I just walked. As I did I had a long time to think. Over the days it took me to get from almost Canada to more lower New York I'd managed to piece together parts of who and what I was. Believe it or not I stopped at a town along the way and had a lovely chat with a reaper there."

"A reaper?"

"Yeah," Mike nodded. "Normal people can't see them, they're on another level of visual awareness, on the same one angel wings are visible and ghosts can move and hellhounds are visible," he said without even batting an eye.

"Okay, so you were talking with this reaper," Harvey prompted.

"Nice guy. I freaked him out, since I sat down next to him as he was waiting for this older man to choke on this chicken wing, and I said hello. But we talked. He had to go do his job for a bit, man with the chicken wing," and Harvey realized that the chicken wing guy had died and the reaper was probably just… sitting there, waiting for him to croak. For some reason it made Harvey's skin crawl. "But he sort of… helped me piece together who and what I was. Reapers are pretty cool actually and he unlocked a good chunk of my brain for me, stuff he said I'd probably remember on my own but wasn't a good idea for a newly grounded angel to just walk around not knowing. The rest he said was locked up by something way stronger than him, if I wanted it undone I needed an angel to undo it.

"I came to New York City after that. I'd never seen so many humans in my life," his eyes got far away, glossy and surreal. Then Mike blinked and focused again, "I was a homeless former angel in New York."

"Sounds like the premise of a bad C movie," Harvey said.

Mike actually laughed and Harvey felt his chest swell, it felt good for Mike to laugh, that he could, especially since he'd been so damn moody since he broke his leg. Sure he was fun when he was on his meds, he was high as a damn kite, that usually equated to being fun. But to hear Mike laugh… Harvey was sure there was no more gorgeous sound. Harvey also seriously needed to tone down the chick flick feelings.

"Yeah," Mike agreed, a smile on his face. "I was just kinda wandering around, when I came to a hospital. That was the first time I ever heard a prayer from this side. I was seriously confused at first, since in heaven… they sort of sound a lot more annoying."

"Annoying?"

"Kinda like how you'd imagine an alarm clock to sound," Mike wrinkled his nose and Harvey have his ankle a squeeze in amusement. "That's the best way I can describe it. It's why angels ignore them mostly."

"And what do prayers sound like on earth?" Harvey asked.

"Sorta like…" he thought a moment, "kinda like you just stuck your head in a sauna actually. Your head feels warm, and momentarily stuffy," Harvey nodded. "I went in, because I was curious, who it was, why they were praying. That's where I found my gran. Her grandson was in a coma, both his parents had died in a car accident."

"Let me guess, Michael Ross," and Mike nodded.

"He was even my age, or at least looked it. Though his hair was darker," and he reached up and grabbed his own short blonde hair.

"Wait, how old did you look? I thought the Ross' died when you were like ten."

"Uh," Mike looked thoughtful. "Apparently I looked younger than puberty," he said with a cheap grin and Harvey pressed his free hand to his face. "I really was a kid."

"And you hitchhiked?" Harvey demanded.

"I honestly am surprised myself now. I think at the time my age was fluctuating, since I distinctly remember being taller when I woke up than when I met my gran."

Harvey sighed as if to say 'you make no sense,' "Continue," he instructed.

"Well, Ms. Ross took a shine to me and she thought I was her grandson. She started calling me Mike, and the rest is sort of history. I started going to school, I made friends, I learned how to be human. Now here I am," he shrugged a little, helplessly.

Harvey nodded, "Okay, I can buy that. Now tell me what's the deal with Castiel."

"He's looking for God to stop the apocalypse," Mike said in a serious, no-humor, tone. Harvey blinked at him. "He think I'm our Father."

Harvey squeezed his eyes shut and thank God Mike stopped talking. He tried to put this all in order in his head. "Okay," he said, eyes still closed. "Okay, you're an ex-angel. A current angel thinks your God and the apocalypse is coming," he cracked his eyes open to see Mike nodding. "Great," he groaned, Mike chuckled, "I'm glad you find it amusing," he snapped. "Some of us like it here."

"Heaven is so much better Harvey," he chastised him.

"Mike… I'm a lawyer. Lawyers don't go to heaven," and Mike laughed so hard he fell backwards onto the pillows of his bed. Harvey grinned to himself, that had been a pretty good one.

Mike pushed himself up onto his elbows once he'd gotten control of himself, "You'll go to heaven Harvey," he said gently. "I know you will, you're a good man."

"I know you've got dementia when it comes to up there Mike, but what's it like? What do you remember?"

Mike flopped back down onto the pillows and closed his eyes. "Heaven is huge," he said softly. "What you call heaven if just part of it. There is heaven, and then there is the Garden," he held up his hands into the air and waved in a big area with one hand to indicate and then a smaller area with the other to indicate the Garden. "Heaven is made up of a bunch of other heavens, all of them perfect worlds for the souls that inhabit them. It's like a rerun track of your best memories, always on loop. You don't remember it though, going through the loop. But it's called paradise to a reason, and no person has the same paradise. Some people share heavens, it's on a special case bases though: soul mates, identical siblings, kindred spirits. The smaller personal paradises make up what most people think of as Heaven.

"And then there is the Garden. The Garden of Eden, where the angels live. It looks different to everyone. Like to me it looked like a great plain, with lots of room to fly and stretch my wings. It's sort of like an angel's version of paradise.

"At the center of the Garden, is the Great Tree," he threw his arms up in front of him, his long fingered hands like branches, fanning off from his arm and wrists. "That's where the angels live. There each angel has their own Nest, and the more important you are the higher up in the Tree your nest is. It's also where the angels work," he made a noise in his throat. "This is from a book, not memory," he clarified before saying, "There is an angel, Azrael, who writes the names of every man born, and erases the name of every man when they die, so he constantly writing and erasing."

"Big job," Harvey said.

"In the Tree he'd be the big cheese of that job, of keeping track of the list of names. He'd probably have a dozen or two actual angels do the work. He'd oversee the work, but probably do little."

"Sounds like a job."

"Azrael is an archangel of death, he'd have underlings."

"And this is from a book?"

"His duty is from a book, no idea if there's actually an angel that endlessly writes and erased the names of man in a book. It was an example," and Mike sat up with a huff.

Harvey continued his prodding. He would be lying if he said he wasn't curious and now that he did believe Mike he just wanted to know what was going on. He asked Mike about hearing the host, which led to questions about drugs which led back to Mike's almost-angel-ness. Listening to Mike describe what the world felt like to him was surprisingly sad and Harvey wished he could make it stop… hurting. He didn't blame Mike for smoking before they'd met, or why he was actually kinda pissed at Castiel for fixing his leg. The numbness was a relief since Mike said he always heard heaven, the host, and his brothers, whispers. Harvey thought it was sort of creepy actually, and saddening.

"I don't think I've ever told anyone all this, ever," Mike told him. "Not Trevor, not even my gran," he licked his lips, looking at Harvey with his pale, muted blue, eyes.

"Since you're in the mood, what about this?" and Harvey traced the line of scarring around Mike's ankle.

Mike just shook his head, "I try not to think about it," he whispered.

"Are the ones on your back from the same incident?" Mike nodded stiffly. Neither of them spoke for a long while. "I'm just going to go out on a limb," he said slowly, "you've said a bit that you… Fell," Mike fixed him with his eyes, but didn't tell him to stop, or to shut up. "You aren't an angel. But all angels have wings. Are they from-

"Yes," Mike cut him off, he sounded like he could barely even stand to admit to it, that his wings had been cut right from his body. Harvey didn't move and Mike didn't even look like he was breathing as he stared down into his lap.

Harvey felt like he was playing with fire with the next words that came out of his mouth, and he asked them carefully, and very slowly. "Can I see them?"

"What?" Mike practically squeaked and stared at him with huge eyes.

Harvey's mouth felt very dry, "Your scars," he said and swallowed, "Can I see them?"

"I don't— Most people don't want to see," he said.

"I do," Harvey said.

"Why?"

"Because they prove you're an angel," Mike opened his mouth to protest," I believe you," he added quickly. "But I still want to see," he prodded.

"They aren't pretty Harvey," Mike said in a small voice and for the first time pulled his feet out of reach of Harvey's gentle hand. Harvey saw it all slipping slightly out of hand. Harvey did believe him, every word (even if he sounded more than a little insane), but he felt like everything he'd gotten was because of his own stubbornness. Mike wasn't parting with any information that Harvey didn't demand or wrestle out of him.

Harvey leaned forward, after the sinking Mike, and gently pressed his lips to Mike's hoping (maybe even praying) that he wasn't fucking it up. He knew his words wouldn't undo Mike this time, the ball was firmly in Mike's court. He just had to convince Mike to share, show they really were on the same team. "I believe you," Harvey said softly, Mike's eyes were wide, staring at him. Shit. He'd lost the ba-

Mike tipped his head forward and caught his lips with his own and Harvey deepened it and reached up to cradle the back of his head gently. After a few seconds Mike pulled away. "I trust you," Mike told him and for some reason Harvey knew he was getting very rare and special treatment as Mike sat back and, not looking at Harvey, unbuttoned his shirt. Vaguely he wondered if Mike just kept his clothes on when he was in bed with someone. Harvey caught sight of the hand length scar on Mike's pelvis before he turned away from Harvey but his shirt was drawn tight across his back and he held very still. Harvey didn't move and just waited before Mike relaxed, barely and slowly let his shirt drop.

Harvey found he was holding his breath as Mike revealed the scars, inch by inch and he made himself breath. They were somehow bigger than Harvey remembered and he waited until Mike's shirt was pooled up around his waist, though his arms still through the sleeves, before very carefully and slowly reaching out and letting his fingertips brush against them. Mike shivered and his arms and shoulders tensed as though he wanted to jerk his shirt back on, but he kept it off. As careful as before Harvey laid his hand down flat on his back.

In his memory and mind the scars had been smaller, barely two fingers in width and much more neat. But then he'd only seen them briefly, and that was months ago, and he hadn't meant to see them, he hadn't been meant to see them either.

The reality of where Mike's wings had been were much more… everything.

They were huge, each one almost the width of his hand and started at the top of his shoulder blade and traveled down, parallel to his spine to almost the small of his back. They weren't clean either and the stitching that had obviously closed the wounds seemed to have pulled spin over larger gaps in the scar, at three parts, which Harvey thought was strange. There were three sets of very distinct, large areas of pulled skin, at even intervals down Mike's back and Harvey carefully traced each other. Mike shivered under his touch, but didn't stop him, or tell him that was enough or that he was uncomfortable. But there was more to the scars than just that and it was like… like his wings had been sawn off, the edges of the scars were not perfect and Harvey frowned.

"I know you think they're ugly," Harvey said amazed by the steadiness of his own voice. "But I think they're amazing," he breathed.

Mike twisted around and looked back at Harvey, eyes wary, vulnerable, and holy shit he looked like a kid it almost made Harvey sick. What had Mike said earlier where he'd fluctuated through age when he'd first come to Earth? Could he make himself look different? No, that was silly. Mike said he had no power. Not anymore at least. "You don't mean that," he said.

"No, I do," Harvey said lowly and slid his hand slowly the line of Mike's spine, between the twin scars. Mike's back bowed under the pressure, slight though it was. "Something wrong?" he asked, he honestly didn't want to hurt Mike.

"It's just… an angel thing," he admitted sheepishly.

"Tell me," Harvey practically whispered into his ear, sliding his hand smoothly back up his spine, mentally counting each vertebrae. Where there were the strange extra pockets of scarring he felt an extra thick bone, or like two bones meeting, he couldn't be sure, but he had a feeling Mike's spine was slightly different from a normal human's.

"Potentially a stronger angel c-can cut another's wingers," he said softly and Harvey felt him shutter under his touch. "It's sort of… rude to touch without permission. It's a very—

"Very?"

"It's one of our only vulnerabilities," for some reason it made Harvey glad to hear Mike talk about angels as if he was one. "It's a very… intimate gesture," Mike said and Harvey heard him swallow. "Only for those we trust," he turned back to look at Harvey, the twist of his spine made the scars bend into sort of crescent shapes.

"Thank you," Harvey said and gently kissed him again, like the other two it was a soft thing, without heat or want or lust. Mike tugged his shirt back on properly when they broke apart and Harvey felt a slight twist in his gut as he covered himself back up. Harvey knew he was ashamed of them, he hated them. Harvey thought that while not beautiful, that they were amazing. A testament to what Mike had been, gorgeous and perfect. Though in Harvey's opinion he was still both those things. His misgivings about the scars being covered were tempered by the fact that Mike was now sliding into his lap.

Okay, he could live with this.

Mike kissed him again, a kiss without fear, or confusion. It was trusting and perfect and Harvey couldn't help but just tug off his shirt for good and throw it across the room where Mike couldn't hide behind it. He felt Mike's hands at his throat, pulling out the knot of his tie while simultaneously working at the buttons of his vest. Harvey had never felt like a three piece suit was too much clothing, but now was that one time where there was too much fabric between himself and Mike.

His jacket got pushed off his shoulders and now he did feel the heat of Mike's lips and the purposeful press of his hands, tugging at Harvey's clothes. Somehow Mike had taken off Harvey's tie and his vest without Harvey having figured out how he'd done it since he was pretty sure his hands had been preoccupied with touching Mike _everywhere_, all at once: along his back, down the smooth line of his flank, across his taught stomach and sliding down his thighs before Harvey just pushed him back onto the bed which seemed to sigh as they fell into it.

"You wear way too many clothes," Mike complained in a half gasp, working open the buttons of his shirt quickly as Harvey kicked off his shoes so that they clattered to the floor. If he wasn't so focused on Mike he'd be worried about scuffs on five thousand dollar shoes, but at the moment his focus had narrowed down to just include Mike Ross, the ex-angel with a genius brain and currently in nothing but a pair of shorts which looked terrible on him and Harvey wanted to get off him as soon as possible.

"Perks of the job rookie," he said against Mike's mouth, shrugging off his shirt once Mike had wrestled the buttons open.

"I am older than you you know," Mike managed to say smartly, even as his fingers scrambled at the hem of Harvey's cotton under shirt, yanking it up.

"Not in this life time kid," Harvey growled and Mike gave a breathy little chuckle as Harvey sat up to pull his shirt off the rest of the way, letting it drop to the floor with the rest of their clothes and reached back to pull off his socks.

When he turned back around Mike was lying there, as calm as could be, a flush high on his cheeks, and hands resting gently on Harvey's hips. His lips were a bit red from where Harvey had kissed and nipped at them and he wanted nothing more than to make Mike bend in amazing ways and hear the hoarse sound of his moan. Then he blinked as a very Donna sounding voice suddenly rocketed through his skull, 'This is a sexual harassment suite waiting to happen. I know you aren't an idiot Harvey!'.

"Harvey?" Mike asked when Harvey hesitated and he felt Mike's fingers tighten on his belt loops.

"Just so there's no miscommunication," Harvey started, "I'm not making you do this?" it was only half a question.

Mike snorted and covered his mouth with a grin, obviously understanding, "No, you aren't," and he reached up to grab Harvey and pull him down to him, "I want this," he said and kissed him. Harvey kissed him back and in less than a minute had pulled Mike's ugly cargo shorts off and was squirming out of his own slacks.

Harvey hovered over Mike, caught in Mike's thunder storm-blue eyes and then, barely above a whisper he breathed, "Turn over," and Mike smiled slyly at him and wriggled onto his back. Harvey smoothed his hands down the twin lines of his back and Mike gave a soft moan as he did so, squirming in the best way under Harvey's hands. Harvey leaned down and followed the path of his hands with his lips, mouth ghosting over the wing scars. When he reached Mike's tail bone he grinned wickedly.

"I'm about to fuck an angel," Harvey said mischievously.

"Oh shut up," Mike groaned, though obviously not really annoyed, Harvey just chuckled and lost himself in the feel of Mike's skin.

—

Harvey was aware of Mike's fingers trailing along his arm. He glanced over at the younger man, who was propped up on one arm. "Again," he said with a sweet little grin.

Harvey groaned and pressed a hand over his eyes. "You're going to kill me rookie," he complained.

Mike just grinned and leaned over to kiss his chest. Mike's hair was amazingly disheveled, pushed every which way as if blown by a strong wind and Harvey thought he looked no better. "I think this time, you're the rookie," and he kissed Harvey's chest again with hot, flirty, eyes.

Harvey rolled his eyes, "I think I've gone as much as I can—" and then Mike was strattling his hips. "Honestly who knew angels were so horny," and that made Mike laugh, he liked making Mike laugh.

"Ez-angel," he said leaning down to kiss Harvey's nose. "And don't tell me the great Harvey Specter is undone by a kid half his age."

Harvey made a face at him, even though his hands rested possessively on Mike's hips. "Three's sort of my limit," he said even as Mike kissed him.

Mike grinned into the kiss and then nuzzled along his jaw, "I think I can fix that," he breathed and rolled his hips against Harvey's and Harvey would be very hard pressed to say his cock wasn't very interested in what Mike was doing there.

"Why do I have a feeling you could keep going at this pace?" he asked, one hand moving to finger the scar on Mike's pelvic bone. The red mark Mike was kissing into his neck (below the collar line, they'd established that rule very quickly (especially when Harvey just wanted to make Mike's pale skin to hell and back so no one would doubt that he was very much not available)) was answer enough. "Crazy angel stamina," and Mike gave a soft snort into his throat.

"You like it," Mike purred and sat up half way, hands against Harvey's shoulders, hips moving against the older man's.

"A little," Harvey omitted and Mike smiled at him. Harvey pulled him back down to kiss him as Mike made good of his promise of breaking Harvey's usual 'three's the limit' rule. Mike was going to kill him, through sex, Harvey was sure of it. He thought there were probably worse ways he could die. At least he wasn't like a few girls he'd taken to bed who as soon as it was over want to do it again. Mike was aware that humans, and men, had limits and needed to re-coop for a bit. That and he was a cuddler; Harvey couldn't find it in himself to be even the least bit surprised.

Mike made the most amazing noises as he rocked on Harvey's hips and Harvey sort of just lay back and watched the show, his own hips gave small jerks upwards as Mike moved. In the back of his mind Harvey thought he heard something, but he was convinced it was just Mike as he moaned.

Harvey almost jumped clear from his skin when the door was suddenly thrown open with a loud bang. His eyes darted to the doorway as Mike actually fell off him in surprise. "Oh shit!" he heard someone cry, and Harvey couldn't agree more.

* * *

><p>Damnit Dean! Way to be a cock block!<p> 


	7. Running Up That Hill

Gah! So much talking in this one!

* * *

><p><em>Let me steal this moment from you now.<em>

_C'mon, angel, c'mon, c'mon darling_

_Let's exchange the experience, oh…_

At the sound of the door slamming open Mike lost both his inner peace and his ability to keep relaxed and his body reacted badly to being so startled and he just shoved himself right off Harvey with a groan of something that might have been pain.

'_I apologizing for… interrupting,_' he heard Castiel's very clear, very shamelessly mellow voice sing through the air. Mike blinked and looked at the suddenly three people in his apartment. Two of them were human and had their hands over their eyes, the other was Castiel who looked… curious. Angels didn't have shame and Mike was currently having trouble finding his even as he felt Harvey yank the covers over him.

"What the hell is this‽" Mike demanded, sitting up on his knees since he didn't think he could handle sitting for real at the moment, he was sort of very suddenly rather sore.

"Uh," the tall one started, his face was red under his hand and he had a knife in his hand though he didn't look in any condition to use it now. Mike looked over the two quickly, they wore some really terrible suits and looked uncomfortable in them. Mike wasn't a snob like Harvey but even he recognized a suit off the rack, it was tacky. "Sorry?" said the tall one sheepishly.

"Mike," Harvey growled in his 'explain right now' tone, Mike just looked at him helplessly.

"I think they thought you were being hurt," Castiel said blandly next to the shorter one.

"Ooookay," Mike said slowly, "Castiel, just… take them out the door please, let us put on some clothes."

"No, ya think?" the shorter one.

"You're the one who just kicked my door down!" Mike yelled at him and he shut up. "Castiel, for the love of our Father, just…" he motioned and Castiel grabbed them both by the elbow and pulled them out of the apartment the door swung shut via his grace. Mike turned to Harvey, "Can I freak out now?" he asked in a pitifully high voice.

Harvey was just staring at him, "Yes," he said.

"Oh thank god," and Mike let himself go and leaned over his knees.

"What… the hell just happened?" Harvey asked.

"I have no idea," Mike rubbed his forehead. "But I think its safe to say the mood is ruined," he gave Harvey a sort of half strained grin.

"I would have to agree," Harvey said.

Mike groaned and pulled himself out of bed and to his bathroom where he cleaned himself up reasonably well. When he walked back out to the main room Harvey was sitting with his feet on the floor, Mike would never not appreciate the view. "Why don't you go clean up, I'll… deal with this," he said weakly.

"You're sure?" Harvey asked as Mike picked his clothes up off the floor and put them on.

"Yes," Mike said. "I'm sorry Harvey but there isn't really… I have to deal with this, not you," and he stood between Harvey's knees and ran a hand through his hair. He would never get tired of this either, messing up Harvey's perfect 'lawyer' hair. Harvey let himself be preened as Mike traced the two attractive moles on his brow with his index finger. "Go get clean, I'll leave your clothes on the door," and he held Harvey's face in both hands, almost unable to believe he really was.

"Kicking me out huh?" he teased.

"I'd prefer to call it ordering you to strut your bad self out of my apartment and scare those two cheaply dressed idiots."

Harvey chuckled, "I like it," he agreed and stood, dropping a kiss onto Mike's lips before walking to the bathroom, Mike could really not help himself as he stared at Harvey's ass; it was a great ass. When the door closed he quickly gathered up Harvey's clothes, folded them up and put them next to the door, hanging the suit jacket on the door knob.

He sort of knew he smelled like sweat and sex and probably looked like he'd just been riding the most perfect man in existence (though to be fair he _had_ just been doing that) but he couldn't leave Castiel or those two out on his landing. The neighbors would talk and he hated giving them gossip, as well as he didn't like to inconvenience them. Taking a deep breath he opened the door to a '-never again.'

"Hi," he said, trying for a cheerful mood. The shorter man with the short hair almost glowered at him. What was his problem?

The tall guy in the monkey suit seemed more amiable towards him, "Hi, I'm Sam Winchester, this is my brother Dean," he motioned to the grump, " And you know Cas," he offered Mike a hopeful smile.

"I'm Mike," he said carefully.

"Can we come in?"

"Depends," Mike gave him a shrewd look that would have made Donna proud. "What do you want? Whatever it is I probably don't want what you're selling," he was a little bitter for getting interrupted while he was having really amazing sex with his really hot boss okay? He was allowed!

"We're here with Cas, he told us… you're God."

"Castiel," Mike snapped at him, "I am not God."

"You said to give you a few hours to talk with Harvey, and then we would discuss the matter of the amulet. It has been several."

"I was busy," he didn't back down, oh no, not to an angel; definitely not one of his brothers.

Dean cleared his throat, "Look, kid, we don't wanna put a damper on any moods here, but this is kinda a big deal."

"You don't say?" Mike was very glad his sarcasm had not waned in the slightest since working for Harvey. Though it helped that Donna was around.

"Yeah, it's kinda the end of the world."

Mike rolled his eyes, "You humans are always so dramatic, sometimes I don't get it," and he stepped out of the way and beckoned them inside. The brothers shuffled in while Castiel swept in like he owned the place, or at least without the fear of what had happened. Mike closed the door.

"So, you know about the end of the world?" Sam asked him when he turned back to them.

"I know the basics. Michael and Lucifer have a big showdown and… _Castiel why did you bring the archangel vessels here?_" he demanded turning to the angel, skipping up into the high octave of the angel spectrum with only one missed beat.

Castiel stared back, "_I told you, I'm trying to help them stop it."_

_"_Yo, Earth to Mike," Dean suddenly said. "Cas here says you are God, you say you aren't, so what the hell are you?"

"I'm _not_ God," Mike said firmly.

"Then?" Dean prompted for elaboration.

"I'm an angel."

There was silence, "Great, another one of you mooks with wings!" Dean threw up his hands, turned away and pulled on his face.

"You're an angel?" Sam asked.

"Well, ex-angel," Mike said, "I was an angel."

"So what does that make you now? A monkey's uncle?" Dean growled.

"He's a Fallen," Castiel said bluntly, "A fallen angel, like those who Fell during the war—

"I am _nothing_ like them," Mike snapped at the angel. Castiel made a slight face and his wings shifted behind him uncomfortably. "I am a fallen angel, but nothing like those Fallen," he frowned, "I had my wings cut and my Grace stolen from me."

"Cas, this isn't god, this is just a broken wind up toy," Dean said without compassion.

"I think he works pretty well," Harvey's voice suddenly said from behind them. He'd taken the world's fastest shower and was now standing fully dressed in full three piece suit and shiny leather shoes as he elegantly put on a cufflink. His hair was slicked back with water so at the moment it looked perfect but would dry out and become as fluffy as it had been before his shower. "You giving my associate a hard time?" he asked professionally.

"Associate? What are you, the mob?" Dean asked, trying to sound unimpressed but failing. Mike felt his hackles raise.

"No, I'm worse," Harvey said with a shark's grin, "I'm a lawyer. They giving you a hard time, Mike?" thank god for small miracles Harvey didn't chose than to use one of his 'pet names' for him.

"I'm a big boy Harvey, I can handle them," Mike said firmly.

"Wait, you're Harvey?" Sam asked.

"The lawyer with the terrifying secretary?" Dean followed up even as Harvey boredly checked his phone messages. 'Harvey the lawyer' just exuded an air of 'you are beneath me mortal,' especially cause he didn't seem to be paying attention.

"I am," he agreed, "And you must be Sam and Dean. Donna had some rather choice words to say about you. Something about… angel bait and cat burglars?" and the brothers looked suddenly amazingly uncomfortable.

"_You know they mean no harm,'_"Castiel suddenly said and Mike looked at him.

"_They also broke my door and interupted us,"_ Mike said back with a frown, mouth barely open, unlike Castiel who was close mouthed and moody.

"_I gave you time"_

_"Yeah and didn't check to see if we were done before dragging the wonder twins up to my apartment,"_ Castiel looked a little confused, _"TV show reference Castiel, forget it."_

_"I thought… you'd be done," _and for once the legendary angel lack of shame faltered and he seemed almost… not embarrassed, but uncomfortable.

"_Could have checked."_

_"I apologize. I have a lot on my mind,"_ Castiel frowned.

_"Why did you tell them I was God before we talked about this?"_

_"I thought… it would give them hope. We haven't seem much of it lately."_

_"I am not their hope. I'm not God! I'm just a guy Castiel-_

_"You are more of an angel than any Fallen. You have ancient Enochian scribed into your entire skeleton almost too small to see. You cannot remember your own _name_ and go by some name humans gave you. You are not human Michael. You are very much not human."_

_"Okay, I'm not human, I accept this. I am not God though."_

"Mike," Mike twisted his head around when Harvey said his name, he was still standing with the wonder twins, "You okay? Looked like you were spacing out."

"I was talking with Castiel," Mike said, Harvey blinked at him and rose his brows, "Enochian Harvey, I told you," he gave Harvey a look and Harvey nodded slowly.

"Wait, what?" Dean tried to interject.

Harvey just talked right over him, "Go take a shower Mike. I'll deal with them while you do," and he looked at the other three. Mike felt relieved. He wanted to handle this alone, he really did, but part of him was so glad Harvey was here. He grabbed a change of actual clean clothes and darted to the bathroom as he heard Harvey say, 'Now, we're all going to have a nice chat about personal privacy.' Mike refrained from snorting, the Winchesters were about to get an earful.

He started the hot water and looked into the mirror. His reflection stared back at him before he jumped when he suddenly wasn't alone. "Damnit Castiel," he whirled on the angel.

"We aren't done talking Michael," Castiel said seriously.

"Can I take a fucking shower first? I know you don't understand what it means to be dirty, but humans have to wash to keep clean."

"I know this," he said.

"Good. Then scram," he flapped his hand at the angel but Castiel did not move. "You're going to stay in here aren't you?"

"I do not like Harvey."

"What? Why?"

"Donna is a demon."

Mike stared at him, "What? What does that have to do with Harvey?" and without even thinking it was awkward he pulled off his shirt. This was Castiel, this was one of his brothers. He did not judge, or if he did, he was too well mannered to comment. He didn't even look at Mike's chest, which he knew had several bite marks on it. Awkwardness over nudity was a foreign concept to angels and when they did visit Earth they usually only wore clothes because their vessels at the time had been wearing some. If they became ruined the angel would find new ones, or repair the old ones, not for their own modesty, but for the modesty of humans, who for some reason found their own bodies to be terrifying and almost ugly.

"He is working with demons."

"No he isn't. I would have noticed," Mike rolled his eyes and turned away from the angel and pushed down his pants before stepping into the shower.

_"Then explain why there is an Asura demon in his office."_

_"I can't. But he isn't into demons. The first time he's ever really heard of demons was today, from me,_" Mike said hotly as he let the hot water pour over him. Castiel had not moved from where he was, standing against the towel rack. Mike knew the other angel was staring at him through his opaque shower curtain, but he barely noticed. _"If Donna's a demon then it has nothing to do with Harvey."_

_"I doesn't bode well."_

_"Whatever, you have issues. You followed me in here for a reason right?"_

_"Yes, the amulet."_

_"What does it do exactly?"_ he asked as he lathered up some shampoo and worked it into his hair.

_"It reacts when our Father is near, or a prophet of Him. You are obviously not a prophet."_

"Yeah no shit," Mike laughed aloud.

_"Explain why it reacts to you."_

_"No clue."_

_"You must have some idea."_

_"Nope."_

_"Would you be willing to find out?"_

Mike's hands stopped as he was rinsing suds from his hair and looked in the direction of where he knew Castiel was standing. _"How?"_

_"There is another of our brothers, one older then me. He may know."_

_"Who?"_

_"Gabriel."_

_"Gabriel? Gabriel's on Earth?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Heh, good for him,"_ and Mike finished washing out the suds.

_"Michael, this is serious!"_

_"Probably."_

_"Can't you take this seriously?"_

_"It isn't my fight Castiel."_

_"If you don't at least help, or help us, the Earth will be destroyed."_

_"And everyone will go to heaven, or hell. Sounds pretty bitchin if you ask me,_" Mike bounced a little on the balls of his feet as he scrubbed down his body with soap.

He jumped, and almost slipped and fell when Castiel suddenly pulled the curtain aside, "You would let all our Father's work go up in flames?" he demanded, blue eyes intense.

"Yes."

Castiel leaned back a little. Had he honestly not expected that answer. "Why?"

"Why should I help him when he did not help me?"

Castiel scowled at him. "That is amazingly petty Michael," he informed him.

"Yeah well, Castiel, I'm human. We tend to be petty," and he grabbed the curtain and yanked it back into place to finish his shower.

_"So you're willing to let Lucifer win?"_

_"I vaguely remember our brother. He wasn't that bad. A dick, but not evil."_

_"And what about Michael? Are you ready to let him win?"_

Mike stilled again. His memories of his brothers were so foggy, so very foggy. But, lately, they'd started to get clearer. Since he'd met Castiel again things he didn't want to remember were jumping to the front of his mind. He remembered the two eldest angels, Lucifer and Michael, they were amazing and powerful and beautiful. Humans thought Lucifer was cruel and twisted. If they thought he was bad then…

_"I doubted Michael most of all_," Mike said softly.

_"Then help us. Please Michael. We can find Gabriel, or someone, anyone, and maybe figure out if you can help, if you are more then just a man. If you don't then Michael wins. He _always_ wins!"_

Mike did not respond right away. He finished his shower, thinking deeply but refused to answer Castiel till he'd finished. Finally he turned off the water and brushed the excess off his body. When he pulled back the curtain Castiel was still there. Mike felt his lips become a thin line, almost a grimace, but not quite. "Okay," he said aloud. "I'll help you. But not for you, and not for those two idiots out there," he pointed out the door. "But because I can't stand the thought of Michael always getting what he wants."

Castiel seemed greatly relieved and his wings actually drooped and relaxed a little, fanning out behind him a bit now that they weren't so tight and tense up behind his back. "Good."

"Do you even know where Gabriel is?" he asked as he dried himself off.

"We can find him," Castiel promised.

"And what do you expect him to do?"

"I don't know. Perhaps he can shed some light on what you are. Or will know someone who can. He was always close to our Father," he said as Mike pulled on his clean clothes.

"Great, it's decided, lets deal with this," and Mike walked past him and back out to his apartment. Harvey was still there and Mike just wanted to go up to him and run his hands all through his hair and wish that all of this would go away. His life had been so simple before Castiel. He had a job and good life. If Castiel had never butted in he could have continued it. But, if Castiel hadn't he probably never would have… whatever it was he had with Harvey. He didn't exactly know how to categorize what Harvey was or would become. He was Mike's boss, yes, but you didn't just have sex with your boss, not Mike at least.

Harvey turned when Mike came out of the bathroom and his eyes narrowed a little when Castiel followed him out. "That's where you popped off to?" Dean asked, looking at Castiel like he was weird. Which to humans, he was. Hadn't Castiel told them _anything_? Maybe it was for the better.

"Michael has agreed to help us," Castiel said and his wings ruffled with his good mood though his face did not change.

"Really? That's great!" Sam said with a big wide smile.

"You are?" Harvey asked skeptically. "Because I think they're both nut jobs," and he looked at the brothers.

"Yes," Mike sighed and went over to Harvey and pulled him to his feet. "Give us a second," he said and dragged him to out of easy hearing distance. "I am going to help them. It'll probably turn into nothing," Mike said softly.

"So then it shouldn't take too long?" Harvey matched his volume, thank goodness.

"I hope so," Mike nodded. "We're… heh, we're going to go look for Gabriel."

"Like… the angel Gabriel?"

"Archangel Gabriel," Mike nodded. "I'll make sure Castiel brings me back before work tomo-

"You have time off," Harvey reminded him. "As far as anyone knows you've still got a bum leg," and Mike didn't miss how Harvey laid a protective hand on his hip on the side where he'd recently had a broken leg.

"You'd actually let me have off? Wow, it's almost like you care or something," Mike teased and it felt so good to do so. He sort of felt like he was spiraling out of control and to be able to do something familiar like tease Harvey made him feel better.

"Hey, I care about not letting this rock get destroyed," Harvey replied like he wasn't full of so much shit. "Those two were telling me some of it, I don't want to see that happen."

"Okay. I'll keep in touch, but I don't know really what's going to happen," then he paused. "I honestly can't believe you're letting me get out of work," he laughed a little.

"Don't get used to it," Harvey growled, leaning close, almost kissing him, but pulling back just to tease him. Oh this asshole. "Just keep your phone on you. If I really need you I'll call you."

"You'll be begging me to come back and proof before the week is up," Mike smirked.

"Contrary to popular belief, I can manage on my own," Harvey said seriously.

Mike just smirked, "Okay," he said. "You need to go home now. I get to deal with… _this_," he wasn't exactly happy about it, but he would, because he had to. He couldn't ignore it. He was suddenly keenly aware of the others watching them, and Castiel seemed especially curious if the set of his wings he could see over Harvey's shoulder was any indication.

"Okay," he nodded. "Don't let those two badly dressed monkeys push you around."

"Please, I own the bull pen, these two are chum."

Harvey chuckled and then leaned in to kiss him lightly. It was sweet and brief and then he was pulling away and stepping towards the door. As he opened the door he looked back at the brothers, "I got your number boys, so behave," he said in what was very obvious a threat about breaking into his office and then he left.

Once the door had closed Mike turned to the Winchesters and Castiel. "So," he asked, "who the hell are you guys anyway?"

The brothers looked between each other, "Well," Sam said, "we're hunters."

"Hunters? What a hunter?"

"You're an angel and you don't know what a hunter is?" Dean asked contemptuously.

"Ex angel," Mike said automatically, "and no, I don't. Honestly it wasn't like angels were worried about what goes on down here. How would I know?"

The brothers looked at Castiel, who was still, though his wings twitched awkwardly. Huh. "Well, we hunt supernatural things," Sam said. "Ghosts, vamps, demons, monsters."

"And you kill them?" Mike asked.

"Of course we kill 'em, we're hunters," Dean said, sounding irritable. He was in a tiff about something and Mike wasn't quite sure what. Or maybe he was always like this, he didn't really know.

"Huh, how very… human centric of you," Mike said with a frown.

"What'you mean by that?" Dean demanded and sat up strait looking like a bird with his feathers puffed out.

"You go around killing things that are only doing what is in their nature to do. How very human, that's all."

"Not like their good things Mike. They're monsters, and they hurt people," Dean said.

"Humans hurt people. Do you hunt humans too?"

"What? No, of course not."

"Why?"

"What do you mean why? We aren't murderers!"

Mike gave him a long look and then turned to Castiel, "Is this one Lucifer's vessel?" he asked blankly.

"What!" Dean stood up quickly. "I am no one's vessel, least of all Lucifer's," he spat.

"No," Castiel said.

"Ah, Michael. Should have known," Mike looked over the taller man. "No wonder he picked you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Doesn't matter," Mike waved it away. "So you're hunters, I'm a lawyer, we're probably all going to hell, so lets try to stop the apocalypse."

"Can you?" Sam asked carefully.

"Not that I know of, no," Mike said. "I'm just a lawyer," and he shrugged.

"Cas, you said he was God. If he is he's an ass," Dean growled at him.

"I said, I'm not our Father, I'm an angel."

"Okay, cool out Dean," Sam grabbed his brother's arm to hold him back because he looked like he was at the end of his line. "So, what are we going to do?" he asked and yanked Dean back onto the couch with him.

"We're going to find Gabriel."

"Seriously?" Dean asked, "Last time we saw him he had us in day time TV hell," he groaned.

"Gabriel is an angel of great age and wisdom, if anyone will know just _what_ Michael here is it's him."

"And if he can't tell us either?" Dean asked.

Castiel did not answer right away, "We'll figure that out when we get there," he admitted. "If he can't help us he may know someone who can. There are old things in the world still."

"Okay, so we have a game plan, great," Dean nodded.

"How are we going to find Gabriel?" Sam asked Castiel.

Mike looked at Castiel questioningly as well. Castiel's wings were stiff and clutched tight to his back, the ends twitched. "I'll be able to find him," he said and Mike's eyebrows arched upwards. Castiel was lying again. How strange. He looked at the brothers, then back at Castiel. He remembered when he'd first started to pretend to be human he hadn't understood lying. It hadn't been till he'd been adopted by his grammy and started going to human school that he'd learned to lie, because telling the truth got him in trouble. Humans were really terrible influences on angels. But Mike had been stripped of his Grace, he was not an angel and could not be one again. Castiel was not.

"Mike?" Sam asked, "you okay?"

"Yeah, fine. I'm just, you know, about to go look for one of my older brothers with two murderers and an angel to save the world. Fine," he said sarcastically.

"You act like you want the world to be destroyed," Dean growled.

Mike shrugged, "Makes little difference to me. People will go to heaven, people will go to hell. I'm already dead anyway," his smile at the end was brittle.

_"I'm sorry_," Castiel said.

"Whatever," Mike shrugged. "So, where do we start? I have five weeks off cause of my former broken leg, after that…"

"You're seriously going to leave us after five weeks?" Sam stared at him.

"If I have to. Yeah," Mike nodded. "That's saying you'll even need me around that long. If I can help, I will, if I can't, Castiel can just take me home when you realize I'm not anyone important."

_"Mike, please, don't antagonize them."_

_"I will once they get it through their skulls that I'm _nothing," he sent Castiel a look.

Sam sighed, "Okay," he nodded, "You're right," he patted his knees before standing up with a slight groan. "We shouldn't waste any more time."

"So where are we going?" Mike asked.

"Well, while Cas is looking for Gabriel we can head back to Bobby's. Maybe he can help make some sort of heads or tails of why the amulet reacts to you if you aren't God. If nothing else he can run some tests on you."

"Great," Mike groaned sarcastically. "So where is Bobby?"

"South Dakota."

Mike closed his eyes, "Okay," he said in a tone that was clearly asking for patience. "Let me pack a bag real quick, I'll meet you downstairs."

"You got it," and the brothers left.

Castiel remained. "This is a waste of time," he told the angel.

"You keep saying that. Its like you don't want to be able to help."

"What do I care?" he snapped. "If everyone is dead then so will I, I won't have to hear the host, I won't have to remember what it means to be so much _more_ then I am. You think its fun to feel yourself getting closer and closer to death every second of every day for the rest of my life?" he demanded.

"I'm sorry," Castiel said again.

"And besides, I'm dead anyway! Who cares. I won't go to heaven, I won't go to hell. I am an empty vessel pretending to have a soul."

"What about Harvey?" Castiel asked.

"What about him?"

"He will go to hell if the world ends."

"He's too good. He'll never reach the Pit."

"His secretary is a demon, and he defiled an angel. There are few things more blasphemous then that," and Mike felt himself flush a little. "You also said you don't want to let Michael will."

"No," Mike agreed.

"If we do nothing, he will eventually persuade Dean to say yes, and then Sam will have no reason to keep saying no to Lucifer. Once one of them breaks, the other will fall. We cannot let that happen."

Mike frowned, "Fine, go to them, I'll be right now, I need to pack some clothes," he sighed. Castiel nodded and in a whoosh of wings and air Castiel was gone. Mike rubbed his face and went to find a duffle bag into which he threw a few shirts, another pair of jeans, and several clean pairs of underwear and socks.

Before leaving his apartment he grabbed a few more things like his keys, wallet and electronics before looking back at his home. The bed was a mess of scattered covers and lopsided pillows and he smiled slightly at them. Then he shoved his door open and locked both the locks up.

"Mike?" he looked up when someone said his name. Peering out of her door was one of his neighbors. Her hair was unreal red and her eyes blue and she'd been the first person to greet him when he'd first moved in. She lived one door over with her boyfriend, a very serious guy who didn't talk much. They made a weird pair, but were very nice.

"Oh, hey Bri," he gave her a smile. He always had a smile for her. She was so sweet and nice, more then once coming over to visit with cookies or baked goods for him saying she made too much (again).

She slipped out of the door frame and walked over to him. "You're back," she said with a broad smile and gave him a quick hug. She smelled like caramelized sugar and flour. He bet she'd been baking again. "Sam and I were so worried."

"Yeah, well, not for too long. I'm leaving," he hefted his duffle.

"Oh? Where are you going?" she asked.

"My uncle's," he lied.

"Really? That's great, how long will you be gone?"

"Not too long, a few weeks."

"Ah," she nodded, "Do you want us to pick your mail up for you while you're gone?"

"Yeah, that'd be great," he nodded. "Look, Bri, I gotta go-

"Of course! Your flight must be leaving soon," and she brushed her copper fringe out of her face.

"I'll see you later, okay?"

"Yeah. Oh, wait-" and then she dashed back into her apartment. She came back less then a minute later. "Here," she said and gave him a small cardboard pastry box. "I was making cookies," she smiled at him brightly. "I was going to bring them into work tomorrow as free samples, but I think you could use them right now."

He couldn't help it, at last he smiled. "Thanks Bri, you're the best."

"Well, I try," she giggled. "Now off you go," and she gave him a friendly push towards the stairs.

"Bye," he called as he walked down, she waved and as he looked away he thought he saw her eyes flash. It was probably just a trick of the light.


	8. Lips of an Angel

_It's really good to hear your name saying my name_

_It sounds so sweet_

_Coming from the lips of an angel_

_Hearing those words it makes me weak_

Really, Harvey didn't need Mike. Sure he missed Mike when he wasn't around but Harvey could function without Mike, he had been for a long time. He could get up in the morning and go to work and meet with clients and get his work done _without _Mike. He didn't worry about Mike because Mike was a grown ass man and didn't need Harvey around to wipe his nose or powder his ass, no matter how much Harvey teased about it otherwise. He had a routine and a way of going about things that he'd done it before Mike had quite literally fallen into his life and he could do it again.

But that had been before Mike had left with those two weirdos and that angel.

Harvey trusted the angel, Castiel, because Mike trusted Castiel. However he didn't trust those other two further then he could throw them, which honestly wasn't that far. Especially not that big shaggy one.

Now Harvey worried. Not a lot, not enough to interfere with his life as Mike would send him texts now and then about how bored he was in South Dakota (seriously South Dakota, who the hell in their right mind lived in _South Dakota_?) and that he wished he had busy work to do and that the place smelled like termite dust, mothballs, old books and homemade alcohol. He'd sent Harvey a picture of an older man with a salt and pepper beard, a trucker hat and a bit of a beer gun under a flannel plaid shirt with an irritated look on his face and the caption 'This is Bobby'. Sometimes his texts were a bit longer, but he never called. Mainly because of the time zone difference and when Mike was free Harvey usually wasn't.

He sent texts back sometimes, but for the most part though his end remained silent. Mike liked sending him pictures of the food they sometimes ate along with various disgusted captions and notes that he'd much rather Harvey take him out to dinner to some fancy place where he clearly couldn't appreciate the food perhaps as well as he should but at least it wasn't _this_. Harvey's phone would buzz every hour or so, or sometimes even more, sometimes less, always at least once a day of Mike regaling Harvey with his boredom. Harvey only didn't look at the new message if he was with a client who would mind and more then once he'd been talking with Jessica and had stopped and checked his phone. She'd been understanding when he said it was Mike though, complaining his leg was itchy.

The texts had stopped a week ago however. Three weeks after Mike had left. Just… nothing. Harvey was starting to worry. It wasn't like Mike to just drop off the face of the Earth. He continued to function however, because he couldn't put his busy life on more then a few hours hold for Mike. Harvey tried calling, he never got an answer, always Mike's profession and very cheerful sounding voice messaging asking for a name, number and if the issue was time sensitive.

"You okay?" he looked up and out his glass door. Donna was sitting at her desk but her voice had come through the intercom. She wasn't looking at him, but he could hear a string of worry in her voice.

"Of course I am," he said bluntly.

"Then eat your lunch."

"What are you, my mother?"

Now Donna did turn a bit in her chair and sent him a sympathetic look, "I'm just looking out for you Harvey," she reminded him with a slight smile. "Are you worried about Mike's recovery? How's he doing?"

Harvey blinked, momentarily confused. That was right, he hadn't told Donna about where Mike had gone. He hadn't told anyone actually. Not Donna. Not Jessica. No one. And not just because it was basically Mike skipping out on work. If he told anyone that Mike had left with two guys and an angel to stop the end of the world… well, there would be questions and Harvey was sure he didn't have the answers, probably never would. "He's doing fine," he said and looked down at his lunch.

"You only get _that_ particular face when you're worried about Mike," Donna said simply.

"He's _fine_," he growled and turned off the intercom so he wouldn't have to hear it.

Mike was fine. He was Fine. Fine with a capital F, because if he wasn't Harvey didn't know what he'd do. He missed Mike and honestly wanted him to come home. Especially after the last time they'd seen each other Harvey especially missed him. He'd had three weeks to think about what had happened that night and everything Mike had told him, everything Mike had _trusted_ him with and no one else. Maybe Ms. Ross, but he didn't think he'd told the old woman everything, not like he'd told Harvey.

He also couldn't forget the feeling of Mike's skin under his hands or the way he seemed to be just so effortlessly _happy_ for Harvey to run his fingers through his dirty blonde hair or down the subtle lines of his back, as if that in itself was enough to just make Mike melt. Harvey would have been lying to say he didn't want to do that again, to feel Mike under him, content, happy. A sad fallen angel who found comfort in the hands of a man who was, probably, going to hell. Wasn't that the thing? That lawyers were sharks and that they didn't go to heaven because heaven had no room for men like Harvey. Not like Mike. No, Mike was always meant for heaven. Irony of that, Mike was meant for heaven, but heaven may not be meant for Mike.

He still hadn't figured quite yet what Mike was to him, but he was more then an easy lay. As if. Mike was probably the hardest he'd ever worked to get into someone's bed in his life. He hadn't really spent enough time with Mike to really figure that out though. Sure he'd spent over a year with Mike in his life but not _with_ Mike, not had feelings for Mike, not even thought of touching feelings about Mike.

Harvey sighed softly and rested his cheek on his palm as he stared down at his uneaten lunch. When had he become such a love struck girl? It was a surprise he even had _that_ thought. Didn't mean it wasn't true. Harvey hadn't had a crush on someone in a long time, not really since Scotty, he forgot what it was like. He hoped Mike texted him soon, so he could stop worrying. Harvey wasn't good at worrying, he was good at acting, at handling the situation. This was not something he could do.

Harvey Specter could live without Mike. That didn't mean he wanted to.

—

The day had been a long one and Harvey was tired as Ray let him out in front of his building. He waved goodbye to a cheerful, as always, Ray and walked to the door. "Good evening mister Specter," Robert said, as polite as always.

"Oh, hello Robert," Harvey said with a tired sigh.

"How's Mike doing?" the last time Robert had seen Mike he was leaving on his crutches. Harvey had since told him he was fine, since the door man had been worried (and that was besides the fact that he'd been scared for his job when he'd told Harvey Mike had left that day). All he'd told the other man was that Mike was fine and staying with someone else, but he still asked nearly every day how Mike was doing. He thought it was nice.

"He's doing just fine," Harvey nodded.

"Well that's good," Robert smiled, "Have a nice night mister Specter," he said as Harvey walked through.

"You too," he called, as an afterthought. He was just tired and wanted a scotch. He waited for the elevator and rubbed his eyes. He felt something behind him and turned, pulling his hand down quickly. There was nothing there. Odd. He looked back to the front door. Robert was still there and would be for another hour as people came home. He frowned and turned around again. He jumped, startled when someone was standing next to him.

"Hello," she said and he couldn't help but look. She wasn't exactly tall but her clothes were immaculately tailored to her body, giving her long legs and supple waist, though she wasn't particularly curvy. Her eyes were bright, _bright,_ blue, to the point of being unreal, maybe they were contacts, and her hair was a color red so vibrant he'd only ever seen Donna pull it off without looking trashy. On her it was wavy and cut short with a long fringe across her forehead.

"Oh, hello," he said making his heart stop galloping.

"Sorry I startled you," she said and smiled. "I didn't mean to."

"It's all right," he said, "It's been a long day," he sighed.

"I'm sure," she said as the elevator dinged. Harvey got on and so did the red head. As the doors closed a phone rang. They both checked their pockets but it wasn't his phone. Good, he didn't want to have to handle anything right now, he wanted his scotch and now that he was thinking about it he also wanted a fucking text from Mike right now. "Hey babe," she said into her phone as the elevator started to rise. "I'm here now. Yeah. Yeah. Just keep an eye on him. He's just a little guy he can't… okay. I will be there in just a moment," and then she hung up.

He couldn't help but be curious, "Boyfriend troubles?" he asked.

"Worse, brother troubles. One's being a little bitch, as usual," she sighed.

"Oh, sorry," he could sympathize. When they'd been younger Harvey's younger had driven him up a wall at times and it was only because he'd loved the little shit head that he hadn't shown him how good his baseball swing was, using his head as a ball.

She looked at her phone for the time and bounced a little on the balls of her feet. "Why is this thing so slow?" she muttered to herself and he chuckled under his breath. Finally the elevator dinged, two floors below his own and she stepped out. Before the doors closed she turned in a quick spin and smiled at him brightly, "Bye Harvey," she said and before he could stop it or even be more then startled the doors closed. He cursed as the elevator rose and he knew it was no good to go see if she was still there, she'd gone into her own condo and he had no idea what her name was. How had she known his? He definitely hadn't said it and even his mailbox only said H. Specter. There was no way-

The elevator dinged again and the doors slid open revealing the penthouse apartments. There were two, Harvey's, and his one neighbor who took up the other half of the top floor. He sighed as he left the elevator, the girl knew his name but it wasn't that suspicious. Not really. He'd just been sort of jumpy lately with the knowledge that there were such things as werewolves and vampires and ghosts and demons and more out there who would be happy to make him their snack. Maybe she saw his mail or something. It wasn't weird. It wasn't weird.

What was weird however was a package at his door. His brow furrowed as he walked up to his door and picked it up slowly. It wasn't very big and reminded him of a pastry box, covered in brown paper with just his name on the top. How had it gotten here? Robert would have told him if he'd had a package delivered. But this one didn't have his address or even a return address, just his name. Carefully he put it to his ear to see if he could hear anything and praying it wasn't a mail bomb or something. He heard nothing and gave it a tentative shake. Some things rattled inside but nothing that sounded dangerous.

Frowning he unlocked his door and pushed it open. The condo was lit only by the sunlight from the windows and it was empty. He put the package on the kitchen counter before heading up to his room to change out of his suit. Harvey the lawyer was officially done for the day, now it was just Harvey the guy, who needed a scotch and for his damn associate to text him. He put his suit away and pulled on some more comfortable cotton clothes before going back to the kitchen and checked his messages where he'd left his phone next to it. No new texts, no missed called; nothing.

He turned his attention to the package and, after examining it a bit more, he opened it from the side. Out slid a white cardboard pastry box with a pretty logo on it that read 'Angel Cakes' in flowery font. He rose a brow and popped the box, also holding his breath. There was no flash, no explosion, no puff of powder. He breathed again.

Inside the pastry box were… cookies. Someone had sent him cookies. He sniffed them and found they were white chocolate macadamia; his favorite. How did someone know he even _had _a favorite cookie? It wasn't like he went around broadcasting it and really only his family and Donna knew. His family because they were his family and Donna because… actually he didn't question how Donna knew things like that. It was just better not to. They smelled all right, so he tried one.

He stared at the cookie in his hand as if it wasn't real. It was probably the best cookie he'd ever had in his entire life. This 'Angel Cakes' bakery must have been really upscale. He fingered through the box, seeing if there was a note, nibbling the pastry. All there was was a dozen cookies but then he came upon something that was not a cookie. Very much not. He stuffed the rest of the first cookie into his mouth and wiped his hand on his sweats as he pulled out a vial. Huh.

It was about as long as his palm, as thick around as a quarter and had no stopper, but was merely a glass tube containing a neon blue fluid. Wrapped around the tube was a piece of paper, held there by tape. He peeled off the paper and saw it was a short note.

_H,_

_Hello Harvey, we're leaving this in your care until He gets there. Keep it safe for us as things are about to get interesting, for you, for Him, and for everyone. And we don't mean 'end of the world' interesting. You'll know what to do when the time comes. Or we hope you do, you're a very smart little human. We're counting on you._

_A&S_

_p.s. I hope you like the cookies. I know they're your favorite._

Harvey swallowed and it felt like there was something stuck in his throat. _Something_ had been here while he was away. His first thought was that it had been a demon, Mike had said demons liked to play tricks on humans. Not only had then been to his condo they knew him, knew him well enough to know what sort of pastry he preferred and suddenly he felt very sick.

He took a deep breath to steady himself and made himself calm down. There was no one here with him, he was alone. Not only that but it wasn't like everything out there was out to get him. There were creatures like angels, and even some 'monsters' weren't really monsters, like unicorns and fairies. They weren't _bad_ and obviously Harvey hadn't been poisoned or he'd be dead now. So whatever had left this box here wasn't out to hurt Harvey. Right? Besides they wanted him to _do_ something. He looked at the thick tube in his hand with something like a frown. Looking at the contents made him feel strange. Not in a bad way, but calm, not so worried or flustered.

He grabbed another cookie before heading to his liquor cabinet, tube in hand; he still wanted that scotch.

—

The next day he felt better. Nothing had come out of the dark to kill him in his sleep and Harvey felt less anxious, which was of course the best he could ask for. It was Saturday and 'Harvey the lawyer' was still on break unless something had to be fixed _right now_ it could wait. He was reading the paper out on his balcony, his cup of imported Cuban coffee sitting on a small dish next to the chive and cream cheese omelet he'd made himself for breakfast. The sounds of the city drifted up to him from the street level and he was just trying to enjoy his morning.

He had the cup half poised to his mouth when he thought he heard something. It was similar to the sound when your ears started ringing; this high pitched wail that was almost beyond hearing. He glanced up at the sky, and then around, but there was nothing there, even though he felt like there should be. He frowned and sipped his coffee before going back to his paper, the sound fading.

Harvey had just turned to the sports section, the one he saved for last as it was his favorite (especially when the Yankees played) when a sudden sharp wind blasted across the the balcony, one so strong it ripped the paper from his loose grip. He didn't go after it though before his hands were suddenly occupied with pressing over his ears at a shrill screaming almost like a mechanical squeal or a no signal tone on a TV back before digital cable. It was a sound that made him light headed and just _hurt_ to listen to at all.

Then, all at once, the wind was gone and so was the noise. Hesitantly Harvey pulled his hands away from his ears, which were ringing, and opened his eyes. His chair clattered as it fell over as he was suddenly on his feet, almost upending the table as well. Lying on one of his patio lounge chairs was a familiar figure who looked like he'd gone through hell and then some.

"Mike!" Harvey cried and went over to the younger man. He was lying on the chair, eyes closed, and not moving. For a sick second he thought he wasn't breathing, that he was dead and his chest turned instantly into a tight knot. But then he was close enough to see the slight, but steady, rise and fall of his chest. The blonde looked like hell and his clothes were ripped up and spotted with blood and Harvey could see he had more then a few scraps and cuts as well. For a second he didn't know what to do, before deciding that he needed to wake Mike up. He grabbed Mike by the shoulder. "Mike," he called and shook him. "Mike," he repeated, louder this time and with a sharper jerk.

Mike stirred, some formless bits of noise passing through his lips and when he opened his eyes Harvey had never been more relieved. "Harvey?" he asked in a confused and quiet tone, blinking at him dumbly.

"Hey there rookie," Harvey projected the cocky confidence he didn't feel.

"What am I doing here?" he asked softly, sounding in a total daze. "Where are the Winchesters? Where's Gabriel?" he blinked hard a few times, trying to orientate himself. "Where am I?"

"You're in New York, on my balcony actually," Harvey said and squeezed his shoulder.

"Ow," Mike said numbly and Harvey let up on the pressure. Mike squeezed his eyes shut, mouth slightly ajar, looking like he was thinking very hard. "Everything. Hurts," he said after a long moment, his voice barely a whisper.

"What happened?" Harvey asked.

"I don't remember," he said, eyes open but he looked half asleep. "I felt like I got hit by a semi."

"Should I call an ambulance?"

"No," he shook his head slowly. "Nothing's broken. You have any of my old pain pills?" he asked, turning to look at Harvey, finally. His blue eyes were blood shot and he had a cut on his bottom lip and it looked like some skin had been rubbed off his cheek as through he'd taken a header onto a rough carpet.

"Yeah, and some bandages," he nodded. "Don't go anywhere."

"Wouldn't if I could," he breathed and leaned back against the patio chair with a pained sigh. Harvey stepped back and retreated into his home to find the first aide kit he kept around, just in case, as well as the half empty bottle of pain pills Mike had been taking before he'd left with the Winchesters weeks ago.

When he got back Mike hadn't moved, his eyes were closed but they opened when Harvey sat down on the edge of the chair. It took him three tries to get the child-proof lid open, his hands were shaking, but he gave Mike a pain med, and he looked relieved by that. "What happened?" Harvey asked again as he inspected Mike for worse wounds, but most of them were just scrapes or a few superficial cuts. He still cleaned them with alcohol to make himself feel like he was doing something to help.

"I don't remember," Mike said softly. "I don't remember… fuck, I don't remember the past few days at all," he moved, reaching up to hold his head. "I hate not remembering," he muttered.

"What happened with Gabriel?" Harvey asked, trying to jog some sort of memory.

"I don't-

"You said you'd found him."

"I did?" he stared at Harvey. "Harvey what day is today?" Harvey told him. "Yeah, the last day I remember is a week before today."

"Well, what do you remember?"

"I was at Bobby's. Castiel was gone, he was still looking for Gabriel. I was translating some ancient Minoan for Bobby-

"Minoan? Seriously?" Harvey asked since Minoan was a lost language and no one knew how to read it, or write it.

"I was starting to remember things, from… from before," he rubbed his mouth. "I can speak any language in the world, modern language, if I've heard it once. But I was starting to do other stuff, remember old things; like Minoan."

"That's good right?"

"I guess," he blinked.

"So you were translating some Minoan for Bobby," Harvey prompted and took Mike's hand in his own.

"About a minotaur," he continued. "Apparently no one knows how to kill them beyond starving them. Heh. Golden bullets do it," he chuckled, "Purgatory has a sense of humor," he wanted to ask what purgatory was, but he didn't. Well, he knew what purgatory was, but he didn't _know_ what purgatory was.

"What happened after that?"

"Bobby called me 'Boy Wonder' and told Sam and Dean they should be half as helpful as I am. Dean bitched, Sam made fun of his brother. Dean doesn't like me very much. I finished translating the text when Jodi came by-

"Jodi?"

"Bobby's total lady-friend who isn't a lady-friend," Mike said with a tired, lopsided smile. "You'd like her. She reminded me of Jessica, only not as scary."

"Jessica isn't scary," Harvey said.

"Have you seen the shoes she walks in?" he asked.

Harvey chuckled, "So Jodi came by?"

"Yeah, and she wanted the boys to come check out this incident that had happened in town a few miles away. They all left with her."

"Why didn't you go?"

"Bobby said I couldn't. The entire place is warded with angel and devil traps and it smells like a damn salt mine there's so much of it. He did some tests on me when I first got there," he exposed the underside of his free arm. Harvey's eyes narrowed at the three lateral cuts along the underside, but he didn't comment. "Not human he said," and he gave a dry laugh. "Fuck, I could have told him that. Said I needed to stay put till Castiel came back; till we found Gabriel.

"They were gone a while. Few hours. I read one of Bobby's books. One on," he paused, and looked confused, "South American monsters," he continued. "Real interesting. I'd almost finished it when Castiel came back. Well, Castiel and Gabriel."

"Gabriel showed up?"

"Yeah, and he took one look at me and said, 'We're all in big trouble', and looked really freaked out. Then…" he squeezed his eyes shut. "Shit. I don't remember. That's it. Just that."

"So you did see Gabriel?"

"Yeah. He's really short," he yawned.

"You should probably get some rest," Harvey said, "You look like you lost a fight with a lawn mower."

"Better then you'd look," Mike mummered but he was fading. Harvey was honestly surprised he'd stayed awake so long.

"I always look good," Harvey reminded him in a tease.

Mike smiled a little, "Yeah you do," he agreed, "You always look amazing."

Harvey allowed himself a little smile, Mike was okay, he just had some scrapes and was tired. Sure his memory was a bit whacked, but he supposed that was almost to be expected and Harvey had a feeling he'd remember eventually. "C'mon, lets get you some place more comfortable," he said and helped Mike up. He didn't complain about pain so the medication must have taken effect but he had trouble standing and Harvey had to mostly carry him. But that was okay since Mike was pretty light weight and didn't put up any struggle.

He thought about putting Mike in the guest room, but some part of his brain that brought up dumb, useless, information reminded him that Mike said that bed was uncomfortable. So he forwent the guest room and took Mike up to his room. Mike didn't even notice, or he was sure the blonde would have put up a fight about taking up Harvey's bed, forget the fact that it wasn't even noon yet.

Mike sighed when Harvey put him on the bed and he managed to kick his shoes off on his own. He said something but Harvey wasn't sure what, it didn't sound English. "If you need me I'll be down stairs," he told Mike, who grunted, "If you need something, call. Got it?"

"Yeah," he mummered and that was all Harvey got out of him before he was out. He stood there a few moments, watching him sleep and assuring himself he was breathing before going back downstairs. He was surprised for a second time when Castiel was standing in his living room. His hair was in disarray and a bit of blood was trickling from his mouth, his clothes were torn and sat awkwardly on his frame.

"Castiel," he started.

"Is Michael here?" he asked.

"Uh…

"Is Michael here?" he demanded now and stalked up to him.

"You don't know?" Harvey asked.

"He is hidden from me. Now tell me. Is. Michael. Here?"

Harvey narrowed his eyes and pushed Castiel away, "Why should I tell you?" he demanded right back.

"It is dangerous."

"Yeah well he isn't here. So buzz off bird breath," he snapped. He didn't like the angel, even though they _were_ an angel.

Castiel frowned, "This is important Harvey," he growled. "Michael was taken by Satanachia, he is in danger."

"Satanash— what?" Harvey blinked at him, feeling stupid.

"Satanachia, one of Lucifer's second in command," Castiel said gravely, but everything he said sounded grave.

"Well, he isn't in any danger now," Harvey said firmly.

"So he's here?" Castiel asked and looked up towards Harvey's bedroom.

"Yes, but he's—

Castiel had vanished and Harvey ran upstairs. He found Castiel in his bedroom standing over Mike, his finger touching his temple. All his bruises and scrapes and scars were gone. Castiel looked at him, "When did he get here?"

"Like ten minutes ago. What the hell is going on angel boy?" he demanded.

"I… am not sure. Gabriel did not tell me all the details and—" and then his stance changed. "Satanachia," he growled and Harvey turned.

"Hello Castiel," said a dark voice and Harvey turned. Standing behind him was another man in a pale grey, perfectly tailored, suit. He had wild blonde hair and electric blue eyes, every line of his body long and lean and muscular. He stumbled back away from the blonde.

"Stay away," Castiel stood in front of Mike.

"I'm not going to hurt him," Satanachia said, almost boredly. "That would make him angry. You, on the other hand," the blonde grinned widely, frighteningly, "You are fair game big brother," he sneered.

"Big brother?" Harvey looked at Castiel and then twisted when Satanachia vanished. An instant later Castiel was gone as well and Harvey was alone with a sleeping Mike. He looked around, as if they would appear again but they never did. Harvey looked at Mike worriedly but was at a loss of what to do. This was so above and beyond what he was able to deal with, and he prided himself in being able to deal with anything life threw at him. But this wasn't anything he knew. He couldn't do anything.

He stood there for a while and started when Mike grumbled in his sleep and turned over onto his side. He made a decision and went to the bed and sat on the other side before scooting over to Mike's sleeping form. The blonde 'hmmed' in his sleep and pressed close against him and his warmth. Harvey let his hand drop onto the kid's hair and wondered what would come next.


	9. Pitter Pat

_Pitter pat, the angel on my shoulder_

_Is haunting me tonight_

_Tick tock, the clock is getting louder_

_Ready for me to decide_

Mike pushed his breakfast around his plate. Harvey was making him eat, no bagel and cream cheese today, it was scrambled eggs and a fruit bowl. He'd slept the entire day and night Saturday and woken this morning in Harvey's bed with said man sleeping next to him. He'd had a moment of 'shit what happened?' before realizing that he was still dressed, and so was Harvey for that matter. Harvey had dragged him downstairs for breakfast.

"Eat your food, don't play with it," Harvey said from the other side of the bar as he made himself breakfast which included what Mike was eating plus bacon and toast and maybe grits. Harvey always liked to go all out on Sunday breakfast.

"You're not my dad," Mike mummered.

"No," he agreed, "Your dad is God and I bet he's super strict about eating your breakfast like a big boy," Mike glared at him for that, but as always Harvey was unaffected by it. "I have no idea when you ate last, neither do you, but you didn't eat yesterday. You _should_ be hungry."

Mike hummed and decided to just shove some of the eggs into his mouth to make Harvey shut up. He didn't want to hear it right now. His head was still stuffed with cotton, though he wasn't hurt anymore, so that was something at least. Harvey had told him Castiel had come shortly after he'd conked out. Also someone named… Satanachia. The name tasted funny on Mike's tongue and felt _wrong_, like it wasn't a real name, but something made up and fabricated.

"I'm full," he declared and pushed the empty plate away from him. Harvey gave him a look but didn't push the fruit on him, pleased he'd even eaten the eggs at all. "Do you know where my phone is?" he asked.

Harvey shook his head, "I was going to ask why you stopped contact. I think you lost it," he said.

"Balls," he muttered.

"Did you just…" Harvey stared at him.

Mike gave him a sheepish look, "Sorry. Bobby says it, it sort of rubbed off on me."

"How come a hick from Dakota can rub off on you but my perfectly rational expectations don't?"

"Because you ask insane shit. Bobby just asks me to read books for him," he grinned widely at that. He'd loved Bobby's library. All the books on weird shit you could ever want, and while a lot of it he already knew there was some good stuff in there too! He didn't know everything, but damnit he knew a lot.

Harvey sighed, "And I was starting to think you would make a good lawyer," Harvey sighed theatrically.

"You're the one who hired me," Mike said helpfully.

"A decision I'm beginning to regret."

There was a short silence, "Do you mean that?" Mike asked quietly.

"What, that you'd make a good lawyer?" Harvey asked and put his bacon on some paper towels to soak up the grease.

"Regret hiring me," Mike bit his lip.

Harvey mulled the question over as he poured scrambled eggs into the hot ban of bacon grease. "Maybe in the beginning. You were so stupid back then," he sent Mike a look. "Didn't know anything about how law _worked_ even if you knew everything about it with that crazy brain of yours. But no, I don't," he said and Mike smiled slightly when Harvey looked at him with a rare soft look on his face.

"Okay," Mike said. "I'm going to go take a shower, who knows how long _that's_ been," and he slid off the stool. For a second Harvey looked like he was going to say something, but he didn't and stared back down into his frying pan. He turned away from Harvey and went to the guest bath, not wanting to use Harvey's.

Once he closed the door he leaned against it and rubbed his temple. He still felt like his head was full of cotton, but not in a good way. It was starting to _hurt_. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before going over to the bath and turning on the shower to hot. He'd have to go back to his place and get some of his clothes since his were sort of ruined as they were bloody and torn.

The water heated up quickly and he stepped into the spray of water. The warm water felt good and it helped him think. He tried to remember what had happened the past week. He could remember a bit beyond Gabriel arriving. Mainly that he'd flipped and started barking at Castiel, demanding all sorts of things, asking questions too quick for the other angel to answer. Then there was nothing. He gently thumped his head on the shower wall and tried to will himself to remember, he didn't.

He turned the shower off once he was clean and stopped up the tub before filling it, sinking down into the water as it filled the large basin. He didn't want to really deal with Harvey just now, or life, or anything. He just wanted to rest because it felt like he hadn't had the chance to relax or sleep in the past week and although his bruises and scrapes had been healed he was just _tired_ and wanted to sleep for a few more days.

Mike leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. He would doze and relax for a while till the water got cold, then he'd go deal with his life. He missed when he fell asleep.

—

There was screaming. So much screaming, just a violent storm of sound that ripped through his head like a band saw, cleaving him in two. The sound should have made a human's ears start to bleed, ripping apart the eardrum and turning the brain into a knot. But Mike was not human and while really loud and painful, it didn't hurt or kill him.

He tried to see, but he was blind and the world around him pulsed white like a beating heart. There was nothing to see.

No.

No, he wasn't blind. He could see. He was not human, he was more. So much more and that more was a fury and a terror and so breathtaking that to gaze upon him was to burn out your eyes. It was a song of fire and wrath and purity of twisting energy contained within a shell of flesh in this life. He could add his voice to the whirlwind of voices, but he did not. Something held him back. Something made him hesitate.

He could pick out the voices in the screaming. He heard Castiel's shrill voice, rising above all the others like a soprano. Gabriel's swirled and swelled beneath him, posturing and blunt with a wavering chord of guilt strung through the entire thing. The rest of the voices he couldn't name. But there were two that sounded so similar that he confused them for each other, they ripped into the highest notes Castiel reached but also plunged down low into ultra bass, weaving in and out and around each other so quickly and with such grace that it took him several minutes to realize that that voice was not one voice, but two, singing in perfect harmony, their rage a perfect melody. The last voice was _might_, strong and by far the loudest, but not the highest. It was in fact mid range, below Gabriel, but above the low notes of the two synchronized singers. But there was so much _power_ there that it would make even the mightiest tremble.

The voices and screaming and singing hastened, their song intensifying. It seemed to rise and he craned his neck up as if he could see, but he could see nothing but white.

His mouth opened slightly and he heard his voice fall from his lips. Not a human noise though. No. No, he was not human. His voice was low, lower then the lowest note of the twin singers, but deep and resonating, and not nearly as loud. The other songs silenced and the white faded away from the top outward to reveal an unfamiliar star field.

A new scream ripped through the air in a sudden booming squeal and abruptly he closed his mouth. It was the scream of the mighty one and it was getting closer. Then suddenly the other four voices returned and drowned out the mighty one, but still they drew closer. He took a careful step back before turning and running, the star field dissolving back into white. The screamer chased after him, and once he looked behind him.

There was nothing, and he was blind.

But then. Out of the fog of white he saw a spark. A figure that was nothing but raw energy, clawing towards him with a huge gaping mouth filled with black teeth and huge white eyes that blazed with stars. Not like stars, but _with_ stars. His breath caught in his throat as arms tipped with huge crackling hands found purchase on the white blinding ground. It opened it's mouth at him and screamed in its fury and rage and hate and violence. Then it was pulled back into the fog and the screaming raised in pitch like the sound of a dying animal. There was the sound of battering wing, as though a great flock of pigeons had just taken flight and then the screaming began to go the other direction. Away from him.

He yelped in sudden surprise when the _thing_ suddenly blasted from the mist and tackled him. "_I killed you!_" it bellowed, its huge, deadly, hands wrapping around his throat. "_I killed you! Why won't you die!_" and the hands tightened around his throat. He flailed and tried to kick and buck _it_ off him but it was stuck fast. "_I'll kill you for sure this time,_" it wailed, its mouth open wide and filled with black teeth, it's mouth bottomless and he couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe, but somehow he was still screaming.

The thing shrieked its rage as several pairs of hands, as massive and sparking as its own grabbed at it and ripped it off him. It screamed and he stared up, lying on his back, panting as the thing was attempted to be wrestled into submission. It fought and got away and with a howl darted off into the fog. The others, he didn't know how many, shot off after him and the sound of wings was loud.

That wasn't an _it_. That wasn't a _thing_. He felt sick. He knew that creature. It was what he was. It was power and might and fury and judgement and… and he knew their name. His name was

—

Mike jerked awake, water splashing everywhere. He realized his own scream had woken him. He panted as he sat in the water, shaking.

"Mike!" Harvey called from the other side of the door and jiggled the handle. "Mike are you okay?" he demanded.

Mike pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes, trembling.

"Mike!" Harvey yelled, "Don't think I'm above breaking my own door if you don't answer me in the next five seconds!"

"I'm alive," Mike managed to say, but it was soft and shaky. Harvey didn't hear it. "I'm alive," he said louder, so Harvey could hear. Or he hoped he could. The door wasn't broken down so he assumed Harvey had heard.

Suddenly he felt sick and scrambled out of the tub and was just in time to puke into the toilet. "Mike," Harvey's voice was worried now. He heard Harvey swear, but he was too busy vomiting up his breakfast of eggs. He heard a thump and then a crack. Another thump followed and someone stumbled into the bathroom. He spit into the bowl, his head almost touching the vomit water and his body shuttered when he gave a tearless cry of frustration and despair. Harvey reached out and touched his back.

In a blinding movement he twisted around and in the next instant he was standing, and Harvey had been flipped onto the floor. His heart hammered in his chest and he was panting. The entire world was too bright, his eyes were dilated and he could feel the world turn under his feet at a break neck speed. "What the hell Mike?" Harvey demanded.

Mike blinked hard. "It was him," he said softly, his heart cold, chest a tight knot.

"What? Mike what are you talking about?" Harvey pushed himself to his feet. Mike was still shaking and he pressed his hands up to his face, near tears. "Mike," Harvey put his hands on his shoulders, "Mike?" He pulled his hands away and then pressed against Harvey, his hands go around the other man's back. That startled the lawyer and it took him a few seconds to return the hug. "Hey, what is it?" he asked, voice surprisingly gentle.

"I know who did this to me," Mike sobbed into his chest, now there were tears because he couldn't believe it. How could it be true? How could _he_ have done such an awful thing? He was supposed to protect them, he was supposed to lead them. But in the end… in the end—

"What?" Harvey sounded bewildered. "Mike, c'mon, talk to me."

"He took my wings Harvey. I know who he is. Damnit. Damnit. Damnit," and he gently pounded his fists onto Harvey's chest.

"Mike," Harvey pulled him away. "Tell me. Who did that to you?" he asked and while one hand kept hold of his shoulder the other wiped away the tears of rage that fell from his eyes.

His face twisted into a grimace. "It's ironic," he said thickly. "I would just have to have this name," he gave a dry, crazed, chuckle. "The angel that took my wings was Michael."


	10. Heresy

_Your god is dead and no one cares_

_And if there is a hell I'll see you there_

The bruises and scrapes were long since healed when he alighted in the unfamiliar apartment. The place smelled vaguely of sulfur, and cloves to cover the smell of that. The apartment was neat and tidy with prints of the ocean and India hanging from the walls, the furniture new but the rugs old, hand woven from the sub continent. A myriad of Indian demons and gods decorated the shelves on the walls.

Trying to remain casual, the lone occupant slowly looked up from her book. As if it could even be given a gender, demons did not have a gender. Still, this one was useful, he would humor it with one. "Hello boss," she said, a slight smile spreading across her lips.

"We are displeased," he said gravely in only the way his kind could.

She immediately lurched to her feet, knowing what it meant when they were displeased with their underlings. Demons were destroyed for much less then to anger them. Though they'd been so quiet lately, not drawing attention, allowing that rogue loose and letting him muck things up. They'd been asleep, it hadn't been their fault he'd gone insane while they slept. If they hadn't Azazel would have never been able to try his mad plan, they wouldn't have allowed it, because that was no what Lucifer wanted. He thought he could _make_ Lucifer a vessel. Stupid, stupid _stupid _Azazel. You could not _make _a vessel. They were born. He seemed to have forgotten that.

"What did I do?" she asked him worriedly.

"You knew there was an angel watching over Him."

"What?" she reeled as if struck. "No. I didn't," she insisted.

He took a few steps towards her and could hear her swallow. She stunk of fear. She should be afraid. He was the thing demons had nightmares about, for he was wrath and power and his might was terrible and swift. Everyone in Hell knew that now since Lucifer had risen. "Yes. You did," he said flatly.

"Sama-" she abruptly checked herself, "Satanachia," she continued with a swallow when he sent her a look brutal enough to curdle milk. Heaven had agents everywhere _listening,_ trying to find out the plan, trying to find Him, because He was the only one who could stop this. But for now He wasn't in the way and Heaven was letting it stand that he was still dead. Dead! As if you could kill something like that. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she said, and took a step back from him. "Where's Agaliarept?" she asked.

"He sent me here, because you failed to inform us of our brothers' involvement."

"Who?"

"At first it was just that broken angel, Castiel, now _Gabriel_ is involved," she paled to death. "Lucifer is not pleased we did not see this."

"I swear to you Satanachia, I had no idea an angel was watching over Him."

"He was at that office you work at."

"What? But that had nothing to… they were looking into Harvey, not Him," then she bit her lip. "Is he okay? The entire city heard the fight."

He frowned a little and while he loathed to tell her he said, "He is alive for now."

"Oh good," she smiled. "If I may… where is he?"

"He is with the one you hold your contract with."

"Really? I thought you would have taken Him someplace safe. Why would you leave him with a human?"

"He is hidden. Michael will not find him, as he has not all this time," he glanced around and the world bled away as he looked beyond what humans could see. He saw no one. "Now why didn't you tell us? You've been near Him, you've ben our eyes and ears here."

"He's been gone," she insisted. "Three weeks, he broke his leg. I haven't seen him." He narrowed his eyes at her, "I have done everything I could Satanachia," she said, voice going up an octave. Of the two he hated dealing with demons more, the only good demon was a dead demon. His other half had more patience for them, he always had. "Please," she swallowed.

He blew out sharply through his nose, "Fine," he grunted.

They both turned at the sound of someone else coming into the room as a whoosh of air and the softest flutter of wings. He relaxed. "There you are," Azrael said and pushed the long fringe off from his forehead. "Did this really need to take this long? We have things to do, Lucifer is calling," and the demon looked between the two nervously.

"She doesn't know anything," he said. "Nothing new at least," his eyes flicked to the red haired demon.

Azrael turned to the demon, "But you knew Castiel was there?"

"I said, they were there for Harvey, not Him," she frowned deeply. "If I'd thought it meant anything I would have contacted you. But all I knew was that he'd broken his leg and was recuperating. I'm a demon, not a mind reader and Harvey can be damn hard to read when he wants to."

"Huh," was all Azrael said though it was clear he didn't pay attention or particularly care. "Keep an eye on them both. He's back in the city, if you hear anything-

"I'll alert you," she promised.

"I love it when demons learn," Azrael said viciously, "C'mon," he nodded at him, "Boss calls," and Samael watched Azrael's wings unfurl. Huge black things that shown iridescent green and blue, touched at the ends with purple. Samael followed in suit and when the other beat it out of the apartment he was close behind.

It took them a few seconds to land in, well really it didn't matter where honestly. The place wasn't important, the company was.

Lucifer was half fallen apart. He was still up and kicking, as always, but his vessel was weak and half his face was starting to bubble and peel at the edges, he was a mess. His true line of vessels had died out long ago, much like his and Azrael's had, but unlike Lucifer they'd been around to maintain the bodies of their last vessels. Lucifer was in a vessel of Gabriel's line, and could withstand the power of an archangel surging through it. But it was like he was wearing a badly tailored suit, it fit, but not quite correctly.

They were at a diner, Lucifer was inside, casually eating pie and drinking some sort of homemade amber alcohol. Everyone in the diner was dead, it didn't seem to bother him. Azrael took the lead and pushed open the door of the diner, Samael followed dutifully.

Lucifer looked up at them with an informed smile, "Ah, there you are," he said before taking a sip of the alcohol. Azrael slid into the booth seat across from the one they called Satan, his wings fluttered a little as he settled. Samael appeared on the top of the booth seat, feet on the plastic leather. Lucifer didn't say anything at first, continuing to eat his pie. "You know," Lucifer said, "Humans can make a damn good pie," he looked at Azrael, "I hear you make a good one yourself."

Azrael giggled and spread his hands out in front of him, "One must find a way to pass the centuries since you were sealed away Lucifer," he said and put his hands on the table. Samael leaned on his knees, not speaking, or smiling.

Lucifer looked at Samael now, "Has he always been like this? I remember him being much nicer and less mopy," he said with raised eyebrows.

"The wait has changed us all," Azrael said. "We've always… been closer to humans. We've had to adapt, to ignore them, or we'd alert heaven to our presence, and then they'd send someone to kill us."

"_Try_," Samael said, Azrael shot him a look, "They'd _try_ to kill us," and he pulled his silver dagger from his wings, fingering it, spinning it expertly in his hands. "They'd have had to send Michael if they wanted us to be really dead."

Lucifer grinned, "So you haven't changed as much as I feared. Good," Lucifer said proudly. "Is everything else in place?"

"Yes," Azrael said.

"Good," Lucifer nodded, "Azrael, be a dear and go fetch me some more of this pie," he tapped his fork onto the plate. Azrael looked at him but then slid off the bench, giving Samael's knee a squeeze as he went. "What about Him?" he asked Samael seriously.

"He's safe."

"Good. Make sure he stays that way. I know Michael knows he exists now, and I don't want our foolish brother ruining this."

Samael's mouth went tight. "We've been planning this all along without you Lucifer," he said softly, spinning the silver dagger, for a brief instant it seemed to flicker revealing it's true form as a sickle in a blur of silver before he held it again by the hilt and it was again just a dagger.

"Yes. And you've done a very good job keeping Him safe all along. But he's been asleep, now he's not, and now Michael knows. Trust me little brother, the game has changed, I'm just looking out for you."

Azrael returned, hips swaying with the beat of his vessels heels. Samael stared at him, knowing him, then he tore his eyes away. The other put a plate down in front of him, cherry pie, with a scoop of ice cream. "I thought you'd like something that wasn't awful," he said in a sweet voice and sat down again, this time between Samael's knees, he put his hands on the red head's slight shoulders, flicking his silver blade back into his wings. "We're glad to have the support Luci," he added. "Just as you have ours."

"Which I thank our Father every day that I breathe for," he grinned and for a moment he remembered Lucifer as he was, perfect, pure, Michael's equal in every way save that Lucifer was better looking. Now he was a shadow of himself. He'd been asleep longer then any of them and angels always started slow after a sleep, and after such a long sleep Lucifer was still getting his feet under him. It was how Michael had gained the upper hand the second time.

"Everything's prepared," Azrael said and he squeezed Azrael's shoulders. "On our end at least," he gave a little shrug.

"So we're just waiting for the Winchesters to catch up with us then?" Lucifer asked and took a bite of the pie. He groaned, "Now _this_ is amazing. Did you make this Azrael?" he asked.

"Like I said, we had to keep ourselves entertained somehow, and I rather like sweets," he said cheerfully, basking in Lucifer's praise, as they once had, back home. "Sam's a stickler about it and doesn't like to admit he likes them," he patted Samael's knee. He squeezed Azrael's shoulders again.

"You really should get with the times Samael," was all Lucifer said, eating. Samael just sat, watching. He could speak, he preferred not to, he'd always been a better attack dog then the one holding the leash, not like Azrael. Perfect, beautiful Azrael, who'd left the Tree for him and his violent tendencies. He'd never be able to repay Azrael for that, never, even if Azrael didn't want him to anyway.

Lucifer grinned at him, "Okay," he said, finishing off the pie and ice cream. He wiped his hands on a napkin and scratched his cheek, face twisting in disgust as his nail found the edge of part of his face where it was peeling. "We're done here, I know you two both know what to do. Keep Him safe. If Michael gets his hands on him it's game over and we go through his Michael's stupid story, and really, no one actually wants the world to end," he sighed. Azrael and Samael both shook their heads. Lucifer flapped his hand at them, and they stretched out their black wings and then were gone with only the sound of air rushing into the places they'd previously been and a slightly warm booth bench to mark their comings and goings.


End file.
